Scratched Record
by AndersenYuki4404
Summary: Plot Summary- Alex fancies a girl who works at the record shop he goes to. However, the girl well pretty and music literate, is too pure and trusting. Will Alex take advantage of the young lady?
1. The Rabbit

Scratched Record-

Disclaimer- I do not own the story book or movie, A Clockwork Orange or its characters.

Plot Summary- Alex fancies a girl who works at the record shop he goes to. However, the girl well pretty and music literate, is too pure and trusting. Will Alex take advantage of the young lady? Or will she be an exception to everything he has always stood for?

Notes: This is my first Clockwork Orange story (huge fan of both the book and the movie), as such, my nadsat may be a little weak in a few places, but I've tried my best to keep Alex and others in character (a feat that turns out to be very difficult), however, I should remind readers that this is based off the missing chapter of Anthony Burgess's original story, where Alex starts to think of giving up his evil ways, and I'm trying to reflect that in this story. Also, my OC character may be a bit…annoying with lack of better words or even Mary Sue (I hope not, but I can't be certain that she is or if I'm just being paranoid). However, I am trying to intentionally create a love interest which is opposite of Alex—that being said, I figured a contradiction to Alex's careless, evil, and dark life would be a woman who is good, light, and perhaps a little bubbly. That being said, I appreciate criticisms, but please no flames. That being said and done with, here is Scratched Record—enjoy!

**Chapter 1: The Rabbit**

Daytime—could he get use to doing this all the time? Walking around like an average man in his petticoat and ascot, surfing through the records and making his purchases without taking company home? It didn't feel like it; right now, he felt as if he was living in different skin.

Alex looked up at the clock—he was due (Due—when had a schedule ever mattered in his life?) home soon. A sniff of dinner and a change of clothes and he'd be with his droogies once more, creating the usual havoc and destruction. The only part that bothered him was 'usual'. He was growing weary of it. Sure, when you were a child, it was fun to take and destroy what didn't belong to you. But now—almost nineteen years of age—it seemed like more of a chore than an outing. Men his age were engrossed in their careers; building lives, and building families.

Perhaps that's why she interested him so. 'She' being the girl behind the counter. The young woman was stacking c.d.'s just down the aisle from him. A small little thing—both in weight and height; her hair almost seemed bigger than she was—long trench of wavy blonde hair fell over her shoulders and stopped just about her waist. Through it, Alex could see a pair of large headphones attached to a cassette player. He shrugged; pretty enough but not particularly moving or grand. Pleasing to the eye none the less.

Most days he came in, she was working, appearing completely oblivious to the world around her. She only spoke so many words to him—a 'will that be all for you, sir?' here and a 'good afternoon' there. The girl couldn't have been working there for more than a year, yet in that year, he had never taken much of an interest in her before. But things had changed since his revelation, meeting up Pete and all. He noticed these women more often now.

The reason? Perhaps he wondered—was this the type of woman (even though she didn't look much older than sixteen) men like Pete sought out? The kind you didn't feel the immense need to give the old in out, in out to, but had a calming aura about them? He wasn't sure if he could ever be inspired by such a female—so mundane to behold, yet he was curious as to why exactly men had such a fascination with them.

Deciding it was better than looking through the exhausted old tapes and records he had already browsed through; he wore his dazzling smile for the young lady he approached. "Pardon dear Devotchka, but might a brother have some warble by Beethoven switched on? If it be no razdraz."

She removed her headphones and turned to face him. Her doe eyes off-set everything else on her face. She reminded somewhat of a small rabbit with her narrow face and small nose. "Oh, None at all—I'll set up a booth for you." She responded in her high voice, with a smile—so wide and white that it made his stomach sick like eating too many sweets.

Alex followed her to the set of booths while she switched the cassettes behind the counter. When he placed the headphones on, he could hear the sweet sounds of Beethoven playing. The one thing this revelation hadn't changed. "Is that all you be needing sir?"

"Yes sister, this is quite fine." He watched as she set back to work. The phone rang and she jumped—only furthering his comparison of her to a bunny. She jumped to the counter to answer the phone. Leaving him behind to watch her.

She was almost child-like, he decided. Not even the way he considered his droogs children, but the kind that parents chased and followed—making sure they didn't make asses of themselves. The way she spoke and made hand gestures told him that she was enthused type—a nice change from his supposed co-workers who seemed to hate everything about their work lives. He himself, never particularly enjoyed misery unless he was the one inflicting it. He disliked the sort of people who whined and bitched about their troubles as if the world was coming down.

"Fancy working at a disc-bootick, sister?" He asked after she hung up the phone. She looked up at him with an eyes in the headlights sort of look. Not always on par, this one, he secretly thought, or at least not quick to be so.

"Yes, I like it well enough. Not a career, but it suits me until I get one." The girl returned to her duties—ignoring him once more. He might have been annoyed had he not noticed what time it was getting to be.

"Afraid there be no such thing as a 'career' sister. After all, no one rabbits once they've snuffed it." He put the headphones down, expecting a response, but not getting one. Just a simple shrug as she set back to stacking c.d.'s He left the booth and prepared to set home to get ready for his night out. "I bid you dobby afterlunch, dear devotchka…"

"Good night sir," She said. Troublesome, these girls could be. Alex shook his head as he walked out the door. No looks. No personality. What did these everyday gentlemen see in them?

Perhaps only interest; that was after all, the only thing he felt towards the girl.

()

"Dobby nochy, is it not brothers?" Len asked. Alex didn't agree or disagree as they basked in the late night. It was indeed a good, if cold, night. The streets were empty box seats, waiting to be filled by the youth of the night as they set out to raise havoc. It amazed Alex how little the city had changed in the past couple years—it was almost as if he had never left and returned at all. Being a narrator, did make your surroundings timeless.

"Ain't be nothing zammechet about it." Bully scoffed. Alex frowned—too much like Dim for his liking at times.

"What plans do we have this night, Alex?"

Alex shrugged, slinging his cane about his shoulders—it use to be that he was totally possessive of the leadership role. He however, was uninspired to think of anything. "Your master has nothing to viddy, dear droogies. What viddy you, Bully? We do ye suppose we itty?"

Bully's foul mood receded immediately—just as Alex figured. He was all set to take over the gang once Alex retired (which he knew was impending as well as Alex did). And since he was all set to take the role, Alex figured the decision was best left to him. "I suggest the milk bar first, droogies. Then perhaps we shall shift through a domy just up town. Does this suit you little Alex?"

Alex was unimpressed but shrugged. "Well enough I suppose droogie…Well-"

"Pardon me, sir…" That voice—he had heard it earlier today. From where had shocked him. Sure enough, his eyes set to across the street.

The little blonde rabbit from the record shop was coming face to face with two men—droogs from another gang judging by their clothing. Both blocking her way as she made her way down the street—home from work, no doubt. He had seen this scene so many times—participated in it as well—that he could see the trouble in their eyes and understand what it met.

For some reason, he was bothered by this. He didn't like the googly eyes they made at her or the intentions he was sure they were thinking. Why should he have cared? The girl gave him nothing earlier; she even ignored him when he gave her the grace of his presence. So what did it matter to him that she was dumb enough to walk home alone—just asking for a couple of droogs to give her pretty little head the time of its life?

He didn't know—but he didn't stand for it either. "Go on ahead, malchicks. I shall join you in a moment. Go on then, sing to your heart's content! Master will follow shortly."

"You heard him, droogies. A soviet from the malchick, himself. We'll viddy you later, dear droogie. Oh, I don't dare to viddy how much ye be missed!" Alex felt irritated at how quickly his droogs had thrown him off—yes, Bully was indeed, too much like Dim for Alex to ever truly enjoy him. However with both Bully and Dim far from his mind, replaced with only his task on mind, Alex began his trek across the street.

"Well well, what is a wee little thing like you doing here? A sharp as pretty as you could be at the mercy of all sorts of strack"

Even facing them, she appeared just as indifferent at the shop. Alex could have admired her bravery if it didn't seem so illogical. "No need to worry; I know my way home well. Like red riding hood through the woods, I suppose. Now, my way, sir?"

They laughed, appreciating the irony of what was about to go down. Or so they thought. She grasped onto her purse. Just as a beat of panic picked up in her heart—just when she realized the kind of danger she was truly in. An angel—or perhaps a demon—freed her from it. "There you are! Naughty, naughty love! Thy knows better than to itty off on your oddy knocky!"

An arm slinked itself around her shoulder—she loosened her grip and looked up at its owner. Surprised to see the young man from earlier with a bright and dangerous smile, leaning both himself and her against his cane. Every day, he had entered the shop—sometimes buying a load of classical music, other times, just hanging about in the booth listening to music. She never minded him; he usually left her alone to her business and she enjoyed the way she talked.

She had never seen him dressed like this though; and the more she thought about it—the more she realized just how dark he had become since their last meeting. The clothes, his eyes, even the friendly, if mischievous smile, he wore had a hint of unspeakable evil in it. It made her shiver. "This be your soomka, bratty?"

The once confident men had turned into little boys when Alex had arrived. He smiled, happy to see he still enjoyed the fear he brought on to others—especially of his own kind. Alex ran his fingers through a strand of loss hair; making her jump once again.

"Indeed—my polly money malenky devotchka, she be. Afraid the gulliver isn't as polezny as the litso on this one, but still quite a horrorshow of a cheena, eh?" He lifted her locks up and away from her shoulder. She tried her best not to flinch. "Now, dearest, ye weren't causing these malchicks grief, were you?"

Realizing that she was part of the performance. She cleared her throat and carefully spoke. "No, darling, I was just looking for you when they came upon me."

"I see, and they didn't cause **you** vred, did they?" Alex took on a stone hard glare that made the men shrink back. She didn't miss the undertone in his voice. Whether he was doing this for his sake or for anyone's sake; she belonged to him for the moment being. The girl shook her head.

"No darling, they were quite concerned actually. They wondered why I was out all alone and I haven't the chance to tell them I was looking for my beloved." She said turning to him with a big and grateful smile. He genuinely enjoyed it, even with as easily as she had given into him—the way it made her doe eyes sparkle. Perhaps there was potential for this one yet.

"Right then, appypolly loggy, my brothers—I pray she didn't cause too much trouble." Alex's friendly tone spoke volumes more than his vicious thoughts. He bared his teeth like a wolf.

"No trouble at all, veck—devotchka." One of the men stepped aside. "Have…Have a horrowshow of a nochy."

"As do you, brothers…" Alex lowered his arm to around her waist and roughly pulled her close, making her grunt. Putting his cane forward and balanced on it. He walked past them, feeling quite like Moses parting the red sea. "As do you…"

The two men wasted no time in furthering the distance between them. With a sigh of relief, the young woman fought to keep up with his quick strides. Not noticing that he was pulling her. "Thank you so much, sir. If you hadn't come well, I dare not ponder what would have become of me."

"You're quite razdraz to gooly this way, sister. Indeed, thank god or bog for your uncle Alex and his horrorshow rasoodock." A little too cheerfully he said. Her body swaying against his—her hip every so often, bumping into his—spiked an old flame within him he hadn't felt for awhile. In this setting, she wasn't nearly as plain as he had originally thought her to be. Now that she was out of her work clothes and into the usual female fashions and he was close enough to smell her—and she did have an incredible scent on her. Like lavender or hot bath water.

"Is that your name? Alex?"

"Yes, and what is the eemya your pe and em gave you, fair sister?" He was more curious than he cared to admit. Usually, he preferred not to personify his victims. Not so much to keep the guilt at bay, but more because they were undeserving in his eyes to have an identity. They were nothing more than objects or dolls for him, for the narrator to play with or create. Yet, this new Alex surprised him, even after playing hero to his usual victim. At least, for now he was…whether he continued to be so or not was her choice.

"Ophelia. After the Shakespeare heroine of Hamlet. My parents being huge fans and all." The newly recognized Ophelia turned her head over her shoulder. "Pardon Alex, but those—what do you call them in your razzle-dazzle language? Malchicks—are far behind us now. Could you let go of me?"

He smirked, choosing to stop but not release his grip. "Not quite Oppie-feelie-ah." He tested a variation of the woman's name, not sure if he quite liked it or not. Alex turned so she faced him, putting his face close to hers. "Would you not viddy that without your dear uncle Alex, ye would have been razrezzed to pieces?"

"I suppose I would have." Ophelia answered, not much caring for the gleam in his eye. Her body was telling her to run, but her mind reminded her that this man had saved her. The same man who came into her record store every day and just this morning had tried to make polite conversation with her. Surely if he meant harm, he would have caused it already? "Is there something you be needing in return? You being my hero, I'd feel terrible if I didn't reward you."

His mind snapped back into the building flame. It didn't matter much if her appearance had failed to impress him earlier. In this light and this state of vulnerability, she looked good enough to eat. "I— "

"Oh! Oh, oh!" Ophelia beamed suddenly. She turned away from him to reach into her bag. Alex's smile faded—in a rare moment, he was confused by what the young girl was doing. She produced a tape, extending it to him. "Here—it doesn't make things fair and square, but music does raise the score."

"What?" When was the last time he had used that word solely? Without any hint of his nadsat accent? He couldn't remember. His brain too seething with annoyance and impatience.

She glanced down at it, perhaps making sure it wasn't broken. "It's a tape of orchestra and piano songs styling's, composed by Joss Hyfreed. He sort of gives a different take on the classic music. I know you prefer the classics pure and untampered with, as do I, but I think you'll enjoy his rendition of Beethoven's 9th symphony…"

Again, he was caught by surprised by the young woman. With a friendly smile, she pushed the tape into his non responding hands. "It's not due to be released until tomorrow—I only got it because I work at the record shop… But if you give it a go, let me know what you think of it… I assume you'll be stopping by the record shop, right Alex?"

His hand clenched around the tape. Something didn't sit right with him. No, this wasn't right at all. But he didn't feel so angry at her, nor did he feel like throwing her down and giving the old in-out, in-out. In fact—he was tranquil. Calm. At peace for the first time in so long.

And he couldn't understand why—he just knew she was to blame.

"I know not, Oppie-feelie-ah—if I should, I'll viddy what I have slooshy from this tape."

She just kept smiling—bright white in the darkness, just serving to confuse him more. "Well, I suppose I must be getting home before I get myself into more trouble. Thank you, Alex, for being my... black knight." She laughed softly, this being a comment on the height of fashion he was wearing.

With that, she turned and took small strides home. He could hear her singing a tune to herself—the 9th, he noted. Soon after, he left to join his droogs as usual. Yet, it felt as if things were more different than they had been before as he considered everything that had happened.

Without explanation, his whole world had been turned upside down by this supposedly mundane little rabbit girl who worked in the record shop.


	2. Of Music and Men

Scratched Record-

Disclaimer- I do not own the story book or movie, A Clockwork Orange or its characters.

Plot Summary- Alex fancies a girl who works at the record shop he goes to. However, the girl well pretty and music literate, is too pure and trusting. Will Alex take advantage of the young lady? Or will she be an exception to everything he has always stood for?

Chapter 2: Of Music and Men

The voices of the choir ranged out as clearly as the various other instruments did. Alex closed his eyes as he listened to the tape Ophelia had given him earlier that night. He listened as the drums thundered while the violins, basses, cellos, and viola all whispered sweet nothings to one another. This was opposed to the horns, and tubas, and clarinets who seemed to fight for dominance. It was so bold and powerful yet so wonderful that Alex could see the ultra-violence very clearly.

He lay across his bed and flicked his finger along—much like he'd imagine this amateur artist (at least compared to the greats!) would. While he was bothered by the changes made by him to Beethoven's work, even he had to admit he did not do the 9th injustice.

When it ended, a new song came on—this one solely accompanied by piano. He could hear an opera like voice singing along. His finger stopped moving as he listened—this was not his usual poison. He preferred his music loud, boisterous, and filled with chaos. This was too quiet—too peaceful.

Yet, as he listened, he was reminded of the tapes original owner—immediately, his mind drifted to a rabbit chopping away at grass. Never cared for rabbits either; the only good they ever did him was to keep his snakes stomach full. The picture made him chuckle—a snake eating a rabbit with little or no trouble.

Then the confusion returned. Earlier, he had been a snake preying on his own little rabbit. Ophelia had practically wrapped herself up for him to rip apart and use. She had allowed herself to fall for the charming snakes' charade and by all means, he should have devoured her up like the foolish bunny she was. And what had prevented him from doing so? A real 'black knight'? A reasonable idea? A millicent even?

No, only this tape, and nothing else. She had diverted his wickedness with a gesture of kindness, and he had fallen for it. The rabbit wasn't the fool; the snake was. And the most baffling thing of it all was why he wanted her in the first place when months—even hours ago; he had thought her no good to him?

The song ended with a delightful high-ranged note. What had this tape changed about her?

What spell did Beethoven cast to make her something worth noticing?

()

"Hello sir, welcome—Oh, Alex!" Ophelia jumped down from her step ladder when she took notice of the young man. It was very odd to be part of one world as opposed to two, but somehow, Alex found the trouble to smile back.

"Dobby morning, Oppie-feelie-ah— I did slooshy thy disk bestowed upon me."

"Is that so?" She asked, picking up the now empty box and returning it to behind the counter. "How did you like it?"

"It was rather horrowshow, in fact. I cannot clop a veck who honors a great as so." Alex watched as the white smile grew across her face once more; the idea of someone being so happy at his enjoyment was foreign to him, to say the least. "Even the devotchka singing the piano warble was not oozhassny…"

"The opera number? I thought it was bloody brilliant!" She cringed when she realized how loud she had been, drawing the attention of a middle aged man shopping nearby. Alex was amused by it—how easily she lost herself in the moment. In a softer tone, she asked. "Are you not an opera fan, Alex?"

He waved his hand. "I viddy zvook is horrorshow enough—a story behind it, only makes a veck mindless and dull."

Ophelia stared at him with her large doe eyes, looking almost close to tears. "But it's so far from the truth! The story enhances imagination. It allows one to think and dwell on personal questions. It's really no different than his version of the 9th symphony. Even that contained some kind of back story to Beethoven!"

His mind fleeted for a moment—making a separate realization from the conversation they were currently having. "Ye pony the way I govoreet very easy like, when most others get lost in it…"

Ophelia waited a moment before realizing he had posed the question without actually asking it. "Because a lot of the people who come here speak like that. At least, most of the boys do, so I caught on eventually. It wasn't easy though. I'm still unsure about a few phrases… Like what they mean when they say 'in-out, in-out.'"

Alex's smile grew once more. "Ye haven't a messel of what a droog means by that?" Ophelia shook her head. Alex, who knew the phrase all too well, leaned forward and said in an even voice. "It pertains to the naughty, naughty things an orange and his devotchka love doing, sweet sister."

Her cheeks tinted a light red—she busied herself with a lock of her hair in an attempt to control herself. "Really…that's what it means?"

"I swear by it…" He noticed the way her lip curled faintly, her chest rising and falling quickly. "Has a veck skazat his desire to 'in-out, in-out 'with you?"

"Not to my face, no—but there have been a few who have suggested it. I sometimes hear them say 'I'd fancy giving her the old in-out in out, ain't it true droogie?'...and, I never understood what they meant."

"Have you slooshy this from the vecks from last night?" Ophelia again, shook her head. Alex unclenched the fist he hadn't realized he clenched. "So—they fancy Oppie-feelie-ah around here, eh?"

"I…guess they do, don't they? I'm afraid I can be oblivious at times. A while ago, there was a man who fancied me… stopped in every day, he did. I didn't realize until later he was interested in me romantically. He was a nice bloke and all, but he mistook my kindness for affection, and I mistook his affection for an innocent crush. He made me feel uneasy, so I thought of asking him to not drop by the store anymore."

"And did he?" Alex asked, more interested in the story than he cared to admit. Ophelia shrugged.

"I never got the chance to ask him—I heard the police got after him for something—after that, I never saw him again. Thank god for that." Ophelia sighed and held her hands together. "It's so very rare for me to dislike someone, and I guess I didn't dislike him. But that was the only thing I could really see in him—he was good. He had no complex ideals, he always seemed to have a hidden criticism…and perhaps worst of all, he didn't indulge in the classics. Never even heard of Mozart! Can you believe that? Never even heard! How sheltered can a person be?"

The middle aged man cleared his throat as he approached the counter. Alex glared heavy at him for interrupting their conversation but Ophelia only blinked—as if noticing the man for the first time. "Sorry sir… I'm sorry Alex, but I must return to work."

"Just as well, I must ookadeet before my day is lost." Alex said, adjusting his coat as he realized just how close to noon it was getting; if he didn't hurry, he'd be late to his lunch appointment. He cursed—that damned scheduled thinking again. So uncreative. "Oh, by the by, Oppie-feelie-ah?"

"Yes?" She managed to answer even while focusing on checking the impatient man out.

"Do ye need a chelloveck to gooly home with you? To assure no vred comes to you?" Alex asked. Ophelia paused for a moment—shocked by the offer. Alex himself, was unsure as to why he made it. He himself had come dangerously close to harming the girl last night and now he was offering to protect her from it? To him, it made about as much sense as being worried about the time or now skipping out on his droogs once more.

"Miss? My things?" The man gruffed. Ophelia exhaled and came back to reality.

"I'm sorry; my mind is everywhere but here today, sir." She weakly said, giving him an amount and a small bag for his things. Once the transaction was made she addressed the waiting Alex. "I…wouldn't mind a friend to walk me home. Especially after last night; I'm not getting off until 8, does that suit you well?"

"8 it is." He agreed. Not finishing with a goodbye, but simply a nod as he exited the store. A friend? This woman, barely even that if not a girl, had called him a friend? It was ridiculous! To him, women were only good for one thing—and that was to take out your sexual urges. And for that trouble, you had to care for them and protect them. Even Ophelia was proof of that.

Yet, it had happened—quite easily actually. He had made friends with a woman. And he couldn't say he hated it.

()

"You've never felt empathy before, have you, Alex?" Pete stirred his coffee, having eaten through his sandwich. Alex sipped his vodka and gave his former droog a side glance. Somehow, during all of Pete's talk about the new baby he and his wife, whatever her name was (he could never remember it; only that she giggled at his speech patterns) were having, Alex had mentioned the odd occurrences that led him to the rabbit girl he now called his friend.

"Empathy, Petey? That's all ye can skazat about it?"

"I wouldn't say it's all it is. But think about it…" Pete wiped his mouth, like a good and proper gentlemen, Alex mocked in his head. "When in your life has anyone shown any interest or concern in you beyond their own personal gain? Not the government, not the correction officers, not even your parents...And when they did, all they wanted to do was change you."

Alex didn't particularly care to play therapist with anyone; let alone his former droogie. "You pony that I don't go for this chepooka, droogie."

"I'm sorry, Alex, but I'm afraid the point must be made. You're confused because this girl is the first person in your life who hasn't tried to change you and more importantly, has actually paid attention to a part of your personality that lacks the, I'll say, less moral integrities... She treats you kindly without being afraid of you but because she actually likes you."

Alex could have rolled his eyes, but really a lot of it did make sense. He by no means, was not a screwed up child. His parents had wanted him to do well, and there was no traumatic part of his life that pushed him to be so negatively deviant. However, it didn't escape his attention, the most people really only acknowledged him when he was being punished or doing something evil. His parents were home all the time, yet they never once comment on Alex's love for classical music. The government didn't do much to help him get on his feet after being conditioned until he had jumped from a window with the intent to kill himself—and even then, they were only looking after their own asses. And while he didn't believe his past evils were caused by some desperate cry for attention, he was starting to wonder if he hadn't been secretly wanting it all this time.

However, Ophelia had recognized him based off of his love for music and shared a basis with him solely on that. She had given him a tape of music to thank him for saving him because she knew he liked it, and she hadn't even discovered his name until that night. And while at times her innocence could be to the point of annoyance; it was better than the bitter/stuffy people he had come to know in his life.

Still, he didn't like being analyzed like a bug—not since his conditioning and J. Alexander. "So, does ye and your zheena, have any eemya's picked for when you become a pe?"

Thankfully, Pete allowed the conversation change to happen. Alex figured talk of his future little one would. "We do. Not sure if you'll agree with them, though."

"Droogie, I couldn't give a cal what eemya ye decide to give your spawn." Alex commented. Pete scratched his head and sighed.

"I told Georgina if it is a boy, I'd like to name him George—for both her and our departed Georgie. For a girl, we both fancy Lucy, but I'm still trying to convince her to share her name with the baby if it's a girl." Ah that's right! Pete's woman was Georgina—just like his old traitorous Georgie. He indeed, did not enjoy Pete's choice of names for his child but I guess in away, Pete and Georgie were always more bonded than Georgie was with Alex.

Then, there was Pete's apparent worship of his wife. The same Pete who, well often acted as the most reluctant of the group, never once deterred when they found and maimed a young lady. It was agreeable that Pete had the least amount of debauchery in him of the droogies; never once did Alex imagine he'd become so infatuated with one woman—let alone that Alex himself would be envious of such a relationship.

"Petey, there be something I cannot get over."

"Go on then?"

"Your zheena, so to be em to your spawn—what do you viddy of her?" Alex asked, sounding more like a teacher than a curious friend.

"Why would you want to know?" Pete asked with shock. "Honestly Alex; it's so unlike you..."

"Just answer it, Petey." He growled.

Pete tapped his fingers on the table, giving Alex a cautious look. "Because I love her Alex, I don't know how else to put it… It's a sort of unconditional love that I don't think you would understand unless you've felt it. She's never asked me to be a better person, but I try to because I want to do good by her. She's like my angel… But until you've met your angel, you couldn't understand it."

An angel? Falling in love with a devil like him? Hah, never has anything sounded so ludicrous to him. Lately, he had dreamed more and more of finding a woman to bare him children—to care for him and keep him company. But to fall in love like his dear friend seems to have done? Alex didn't see that ever happening to him. Love was for people who were content growing old and sitting in rocking chairs. Love was for people who cared more for each other than themselves. Love was for the people were good and kept in their place.

And no matter what hope he had; he couldn't never for see doing those things for anyone—not even a girl in a record store.

**Hey guys, thank you for the review and story alerts I've gotten for this story! I was very worried about how this story would be received but I'm glad it's going well so far. I hope it continues to please!**


	3. Seeing Red

Scratched Record-

Disclaimer- I do not own the story book or movie, A Clockwork Orange or its characters.

Plot Summary- Alex fancies a girl who works at the record shop he goes to. However, the girl well pretty and music literate, is too pure and trusting. Will Alex take advantage of the young lady? Or will she be an exception to everything he has always stood for?

Chapter 3: Seeing Red

Alex tapped on the glass window of the closed record shop. He was about five minutes later than he had told Ophelia. He would have thought she had gone home without him, except the lights were still on inside the shop.

She appeared faintly from around the corner and waved, then converting her signal to a one sign. Alex nodded and waited for her to come out. He had decided to dress in his night time fashions despite telling his droogs to go without him tonight. More people appeared afraid of him when he was dressed like a hell raiser as opposed to when he was dressed in his day time English fashions. Ophelia emerged a few minutes later, dressed not in her work uniform as she turned off the lights. Alex, who hadn't notice the real difference last night, noticed it now.

This night, she was wearing a red jumpsuit that better showed the curves of her body as well as the smaller, yet nicely rounded bust she had. To protect herself from the cold, she was wearing a black over jacket that attempted to hide that which Alex was tempted to see. He sized her up with approval; defiantly a step up from the previous night. "Sorry to keep you waiting Alex, are you sure you don't mind walking me home?"

"Viddy nothing of it, sister." Alex said, offering his arm to her. With a white smile, she looped her arm through his. "Though, is home where you desire ye droog to take you? The nochy is still ripe after all."

"Well, tomorrow is my day off." Ophelia considered, holding on to the smooth black jacket he wore. "What did you have in mind?"

Alex hadn't much considered it, and he didn't think any of his usual places would suit the innocent blonde. Which placed him in the same situation he was with his droogs, for entirely different reasons. "I have nothing to vareet, what do you viddy, Oppie-feelie-ah."

"I know of a jazz club nearby. I haven't been in awhile but since you enjoy music so much, it could be fun. Does that suit you, Alex?"

Jazz? He recalled it as the genre that had gone out not long after his parents were born (followed by the prime of their music disco). He had heard few songs from the Jazz genre but couldn't recall if he liked it or not. "Privodeet, sister."

()

The Jazz cafe was live with the chatter of other people and light music. Alex was not particularly comfortable yet, but didn't hate the sounds he was hearing. The bass reminded him of his beloved classical music and the voices (sometimes male, sometimes female) sang perfectly but quietly in tune.

Ophelia sipped on her red wine, every now and again bopping her head to the music. Alex wasn't sure what surprised him more; that she was drinking, that she was old enough to drink, or that she trusted him enough to drink in his presence. Of course, one glass of wine wasn't going to make someone skunk drunk, but any sort of intoxication could be dangerous around him.

"Do you like this music? I wasn't sure if you would, you seem so committed to Beethoven."

Alex shrugged. "I viddy it horrorshow enough. They aren't so choodessny as the greats are, but anyone hardly slooshys it in these times." He noticed how she tried to hide her shock to keep from making a scene once more. "And what of your tastes, Oppie-feelie-ah? Do thee find this warble oh so very horrorshow?"

"Oh yes! But I have sort of a love for all music, much like my father did. He use to bring me here all the time." Ophelia stated.

"What about your skolliwoll, then?" He asked. Not that he had any room to talk. He barely went to school himself during those days; never even really graduated. It was the sort of place that bore him really. Ophelia appeared confused by that word. "School."

"Oh, I'm sorry. They don't talk about that much at the record shop. For obvious reasons." She commented with a giggle. Alex couldn't help but smile—how easily entertained she was by his language, and how reactive she was to his life. The smile faded from her face almost instantly though. He, even being not so easy to understand human emotion, immediately realize he hit a rough spot. "I've been homeschooled all my life. I've never even set foot in a normal school. Which I suppose is both a blessing and a curse. I managed to graduate a year ahead of schedule and I got to spend a lot of time with my father before he passed on, but… It's made it rather difficult for me to be social… This is the first time I've been out with a friend before."

It did seem a little less confusing to him. So this was why little Ophelia was so easy to trust him and his intentions; she really didn't know any better. "So, ye pe is no longer among you?"

She shook her head. "Nor is my mother, but not in the same sense. She left home while I was just a toddler. I don't even have a real memory of her. But my father mourned her like dead for so many years…I think it was why he clung to me so." Watching as Alex scratched his chin in interest, Ophelia smiled a bit again. "What of your parents, Alex? Alive? Together? Divorced?"

"Both alive and still together." He said simply. It was odd when you thought about it. How he could have the perfect model of a family and he'd be the villain, while Ophelia had a deceased parent and one that had left home while she was young, and grew up to be the person she ended becoming. "Both devoted to their careers and interests, as am I."

"Oh, so…you don't spend a lot of time with them?" Alex shook his head, making Ophelia not quite frown, but not smile either. "I should have guessed so. Forgive me, but you don't seem like the type of bloke to be interested in what his parents are up to. Do you still live with them?"

"Indeed I do. It's not so baddiwad. Em keeps the domy clean. Pe keeps his viddy in his own gulliver. So it's not so drone and rabbit." Alex commented.

A bit of a faster song came on, but Ophelia didn't change the rhythm of her head movement. She did however tap her nails perfectly to the beat much like the drummer on stage. Alex, caught on to the beat quickly, and tapped along with his boot. They gave each other a knowing look of enjoyment.

Ophelia's look changed to confusion. "Alex, the people over there won't stop staring at you…"

Alex turned just in time to see a couple, just about his parents age, looking away so not to be caught. His clothing was less than subtle—it was obvious he was more of the hellion type, but usually the people would know better than to draw the attention of a rough houser like him.

No, they were staring at him because they recognized him from the papers more than a year ago. Not so many did now, but occasionally someone would spot him and know him as the reformed man who nearly killed himself. "I shive the fear of bog or god in them. A droogie like your Uncle Alex—it causes the chellovecks some razdrez."

"But…" She started but closed her mouth, folding her hands in her lap. Deciding perhaps it was better to leave this subject alone.

He encouraged her. "Yes, Oppie-feelie-ah?"

"They're all afraid of you. The boys from last night, the people over there...And in the shop; I see people who are terrified of you, even when you're not dressed as you are now." Alex was yet again, surprised by her and how observant she had been when usually, her attention was easily lost. Then again, he mused, she's had plenty of time to notice.

Curiosity made him wonder if she'd be so kind to him if she knew what he really did when he wasn't saving little rabbit girls or listening to Beethoven. What she would do if he took off her veil and showed her his blood red hands. Another side of him didn't want her to know; another side wanted to keep that look of innocence in her eyes. "Do thy pony at all what kind of baddiwad yours truly has committed, sister? The vred I've caused? How horrowshow it is to me? I've done things your polly money malenky gulliver couldn't wrap itself around."

Ophelia looked at him with wide eyes before whispering. "I've heard of the things…" She bit her lips, unsure of if she should finish. She could see the temper rising in his eyes, the insecurity folding itself in around him. He was coiling up like a python just when she was enjoying him most.

"Go on then, sister. You started it, now finish it." He said through his impatient teeth.

She cleared her throat and spoke in a nervous voice. "People like you do. I know what you're capable of, Alex."

If only she knew—no one could begin to understand what he was capable of. Whether she choose to believe it or not, he was more than able to hurt her, rape her, and even kill her if he so desired. The only difference between him and most other bad men was that he knew he was evil—he knew it and he accepted it.

But something swirled in his stomach. Very similar to the kind of feeling the drug caused so long ago, only it felt more…natural. The idea of causing her harm made him feel sick. How could a person cause such feelings? Someone you had just met not long ago? There was nothing special about her, he reminded himself. She was just a harmless creature. Vulnerable. Like the rabbit to his snake. The thought that she of all people could cause these feelings. It made him angry.

It made him want to show her just how capable he was.

Alex reached across the table and grabbed her wrist, standing as he did so. "Come along, Oppie-feeling-ah, let's gooly, shall we?"

Sirens went off in her head. She was brought up from her seat and forced follow as they walked toward the back exit. Her feet picked up the pace to keep up with him, but she tried to pull her arm back. He was squeezing her wrist, making it ache. Her voice muttered his name quietly, trying to snap him out of his trance. It didn't matter if he had saved her the night before; she didn't much like the way his eyes turned with red.

The black ally outside was empty as Alex thrusted her out the door. Ophelia stumbled but managed to stop herself from falling. "Alex, what are you doing?"

Her voice drifted when she stood and saw him prowling towards her. His seemingly friendly face was once again cursed with that dangerous smile of his. "Well, well, Oppie-feelie-ah, what's gotten you all razdrez all of the sudden? Does Uncle Alex frighten you?"

With every step he took, she took a step back. She did this until her back hit the wall. She tried to take off, but Alex pushed his body against hers—paralyzing her with fear. "Are you afraid of him, sister?"

He chuckled just inches away from her face. In this light, she wasn't nearly as plain as he had originally thought her. Actually—her pale skin, whiting all the more from terror, along with her wide, beautiful scared eyes just made him desire her. Suddenly, the rush he had been missing from his late nights with his droogs; the very addicting feeling of evil came back to him. Could feel his body respond to the way hers shivered against his. His pleasure was being pulsed by his fear.

It was a lesson she needed to learn. Alex De Large was not a hero—and he was not incapable. "Alex …" Tears prickled through her eyes. One fell down her face, as she struggled to find her voice. "Alex, you're scaring me!"

He leaned over and licked the tear from her face, swiping his thumb over where it had fallen. "Don't platch at me devotchka." No Oppie-feelie-ah anymore. He didn't personalize victims—he never should have in the first place. "Come on, sister! Don't make this so easy for your Uncle! Clop him! Razrezz him! Give him something drats for!"

His excitement and anger boiled over at her silence. He grabbed the collar of her jumpsuit and shook her. "Creech for bogsake. Go ahead, malenky rabbit…" His mind laughing at his metaphor being put to use. "Do something to your master—make him viddy a reason not to in-out, in-out with you right now. Do it!"

He had expect her hands to try and pulled him away. For them to paw or claw at him and try to force them away. In his sick twisted way, he had wanted that. He wanted her to know better. To take a bite of the apple and see their pathetic Eden for what it was. Oblivion.

Instead, her lips landed on his face. She swallowed her sob and leaned in closing the gap between them. Her lips landed on his; so subtle and gentle that he couldn't comprehend what she had done.

He had never really kissed a woman before in the romantic sense. He might have pressed his lips to a pair belonging to his victim or perhaps a willing participant just to keep her going. But that was all for the sake of getting off. Never before had he known the name of the woman he kissed; let alone, having her initiate it. And while he could tell that Ophelia, so pure and virgin, hadn't kissed many men. The warmth that started at his lips and carried throughout his body was pleasing in a way he couldn't have before fathomed. It didn't fulfill him physically, or rock his world; but it seem to lift him almost to a different place so far away from this one. It was at least compelling enough for him to kiss her back.

But when it broke; it became cold. His evil intentions floated away and he was left with only the sick feeling and a tearstained face but calm Ophelia in front of him. With a wide-eyed and shocked expression, he no longer saw red or felt a desire to harm the girl. If anything, he was confused by where these feelings had gone in the first place.

He stepped away from her. Ophelia sighed her relief as she moved from the wall. "Come along, sister." He said just barely above a whisper. "I shall gooly ye home before you make me bezoomny."


	4. Prowling

Scratched Record-

Disclaimer- I do not own the story book or movie, A Clockwork Orange or its characters.

Plot Summary- Alex fancies a girl who works at the record shop he goes to. However, the girl well pretty and music literate, is too pure and trusting. Will Alex take advantage of the young lady? Or will she be an exception to everything he has always stood for?

Chapter 4: Distance

"Alex, why?" Ophelia asked after a long walk of silence. Despite what he had tried to do to her, she was still leading him to her home while he kept a watchful gaze. He couldn't imagine they were too far away now, but every moment with her had caused a thunder of emotions—none of which he knew what to think of. Just a while ago, he had been dangerously close to turning his old habits on to her; and she was asking questions?

"Why, Oppie-feelie-ah?" He responded, not daring to look at her. Her eyes were still stained with red.

"Why… Why did you stop?" Alex looked up at her, perhaps shocked at the question she had chosen to ask. Why he had stopped was almost more ridiculous than why he had done it in the first place. "I was almost certain nothing could stop you. That was why I kissed you."

"Ye just let it snuff it out then? Just gave up, did you?" Alex said, feeling his blood boil. He thrilled himself on making women powerless. To him, or at least it use to be, there was nothing more satisfying then taking a devotchka, giving her the in-out in-out, and her being able to do nothing about it. But there was something very maddening about how, or why a woman would let it happen to her.

"No, no. I was…consenting." Ophelia said, her fingers tracing the lines of her handbag. "I… I've never really had a friend before. And as terrified as I was—I was more afraid of losing you. It sounds ludicrous I know but, I can't it explain it any better than that."

He was speechless, stuck somewhere between that sick feeling and pity. In all his life, he had only ever felt that way towards himself. He felt sorry for himself and his circumstances. Pitying other people was simply—unbefitting him.

But she was so small, so frail. Not a friend in the world. Suddenly a new feeling set in—this empathy Pete had told him of earlier. Alex recalled how alone he was after his 'reformation'. Not an ally to call on, not a place to call home, not even the pleasure of his creativity to keep him content. He was alone.

And now he was standing in front of a girl—so desperate for a friend that she would ignore his true side. "Ye quite are a malenky devotchka aren't you?"

She half-laughed, half-cried at the statement. "I suppose I am….Perhaps you could understand that? There are times where I don't even understand it." Then without warning; she placed his hand in his, wrapping a free arm around him. Alex shocked could do nothing but constrict his hand around hers. It was tight. She knew it to be so because he had not held another's hand in a very long time, perhaps never at all.

"I viddy not a thing about ye, Oppie-"

"Droogie, that be thee?" Alex cursed to himself as Ophelia turned around to witness Len, Bully, and Rick. All dressed in a similar fashion then they were. Her instincts failed her yet again as her grip loosened off of him. Len gave him a knowing smile. "Oh appypolly-loggy brother, we didn't realize you had snagged a devotchka. A polly money one at that."

"Droogs, horrorshow of nochy is it not?" He said with a wide, dangerous smile. He was no different than a territorial wolf baring his fangs.

"Alex, are these your friends?" She gave them an inviting smile, which faded when Alex tightened his already tight grip.

Bully chuckled. "Well, well, what's this? Not your usual taste, little Alex?" He reached out to touch Ophelia's hair but was blocked by Alex's cane. He laughed again. "Well, well, indeed! I must viddy, pray enlighten me, droogie. What maketh your knockers knot so much over this one."

"Ophelia…" She spoke quietly, drawing the attention to her once more. At last, she understood the danger she was in. "I—I don't much care to be spoken about like an object. My name is Ophelia."

They erupted in hyena laughter. Bully started reaching forward to grab Ophelia's wrist. Alex's boiling blood and primal instinct kicked in. He pushed Ophelia back and unsheathed the knife from his cane. He balanced the knife against Bully's fat cheek; not enough to draw blood, but couldn't ignore the attraction to do so.

"Alex, stop!" Ophelia screamed, clutching for him. He didn't move from her; he instead smiled his grueling smile.

"If ye know what suits you, Little Alex…" Bully began with a fierce glare and heavy voice. Len and Rick , while appearing indifferent, were too frightened to move—remembering how easy it had been before for their leader to take down his former droogs.

Alex responded by digging the knife a little into his droogs cheek. "How dare govoreet to your master as such! Ye be bezoomny to think ye could disrespect what is his and lovet nothing of it! I should clean the gulliver straight off your pletcho, I should. Not that it does much for thee anyway!"

She dug her nails into his arm, reminding him that she was there."Alex, I don't want _**any more **_violence in my life! Please just let it go!"

Len finally spoke. "Let him be, Droogie. Bully had no pony to vred your sharp—just let him go."

Alex loathed the patronizing tone behind it. Yet, he lowered his weapon- allowing Bully to step back. Alex sheathed his knife and grabbed Ophelia by the arm. He gave each of them an emotionless look—but his eyes targeted Bully the longest. "Next time you all decide to be a bunch of bratchnys—your master won't be so sammy."

He dragged Ophelia away from the group of young men and their shocked, disgusted looks. Alex had a feeling it would soon be inappropriate for him to call them droogs.

()

"Is this where you live?" Ophelia questioned softly in a nervous tone. Alex nodded as he unlocked the door to his apartment building. "Why did you bring me here?"

For once, she was hesitant about him without needing any warning. After what she had just witnessed from him, Alex couldn't blame her. "Those nazzes—they might've followed us and try to vred you well off your chasso. This shall be your sanctuary until tomorrow. I'll privodeet you domy then."

He showed her in, taking her upstairs to his apartment. Alex didn't once reveal the ulterior motive of bringing her here. Alex wouldn't admit it out loud but when she had held his hand—when she touched him. He enjoyed it. Not in the way he had formerly enjoyed a female's presence. It relaxed him; made him joyous. At the same time, it made him want more. He wanted to kiss her again.

Frankly, he just wanted the physical company. "Down the hall. Uncle Alex must smot to some veshch first."

"Oh okay…" She turned to leave but then turned back suddenly. "Alex… thank you. For everything."

"Hurry off then." He responded quickly. Ophelia turned back and followed the hallway. Once he was sure she was gone, he sighed to himself retiring to the bathroom, leaning against the sink and looking in the mirror. His face was plundered with stress, confusion, and other little annoying emotions.

Her innocence threatened to do one of three things; one, get her killed, two get him killed, or three, have him kill her. While simultaneously being bothered by it; her purity excited him. It made him feel like the predator he use to be; only once again, he was enthralled.

And now he'd have control himself with her in his living quarters. It wouldn't be easy. He had almost taken her twice; both times would be without her permission despite what she had told him earlier. Alex, believe it or not, didn't want to harm her. Just the opposite—he wanted her to trust him. To depend on him.

He wanted to see what it was like to be in a relationship—even if he didn't believe in things like love and everlasting attraction or happiness—it couldn't hurt to try it. Although, he didn't think self control would be so difficult. Alex always had a woman there to satisfy him whenever he desired. Yet now, he couldn't take out his frustrations on her or (according to how his parents and Pete acted) another woman.

So he allowed his mind to play. Imagining the music from the tape she had given him—the version of the 9th he had heard. His hand shook as it lowered itself to undo his pants and dove in. As he pushed himself towards the throws of pleasure he thought of her. The images started sinisterly—women at his mercy. Ophelia looking up at him—scared as she had been earlier. Completely his, whether it was her will or not.

Then he grew warm. The kiss still fresh in his mind. Her gentle touches and caresses. The thought of those grazes touching him in such a way affected him more than he ever would have thought. Alex took in a sharp intake of breath as his body received its completion.

Once the clouds cleared and removed his hand, his frustration and anger shooed away from him, leaving only a tranquil and numb mindset. He was relieved yet, something still gnawed at him—he was just too high to care. He cleaned himself off and went to join his guest in his bedroom.

When he opened the door, Ophelia turned away from him, looking at the mirror his mother had bought for him when he moved back in. Because of government law, most of his valuables (such as his statues and art) were taken away to give to his victim's cats. He had managed to replace some of the items with things he stole, but it was still far from where he had it. A goal he had mindlessly been working towards since moving back with his parents.

She was wearing the bowler's hat he use to own—most of his wardrobe being left untouched. He was strangely not annoyed by her use of his former fashions. In fact, a part of him liked the way she looked when she turned to face him. Another part hated thinking that something so evil could touch such an innocent creature. She took off the hat and smiled meekly.

"Sorry, I saw it hanging about and ..."

"Nothing of it." He said, shutting the bedroom door. She placed the hat down—Alex couldn't help but notice that she had removed her jacket. Her nimble, pale arms visible for only his eyes.

"Alex, where will I be sleeping tonight?"

He wore an bemused smile. "Do ye have some veshch against sharing, sister?"

Ophelia's mouth opened and close a few times, her eyes widening at the very thought. After taking a breath she answered. "In your bed? With you? I'm not sure I can…"

She stopped talking as he approached her. When he was close enough, he reached out to touch her bare shoulder. Ophelia shivered at the touch. "Uncle Alex doesn't bite…" She shook once more at his touch, curiosity beginning to get the better of him. Since she was rather easy about his room—chances were she was rather open to sexuality despite no doubt being a virgin. But if her earlier statement was true and she had no one to act these feelings out. Perhaps his little rabbit wanted to enter the field. "In fact—he can be most…horrorshow."

He stopped her before she objected. "Have ye ever had a vecks attention before?"

"No…" She responded when she caught the inner jist of what he had said. Alex leaned his head closer, his hand drifting up her neck.

"And would thee fancy that…Oppie-feelie-ah?"

Her breath was somewhere between hesitant and raving mad. "Alex. I like you. I like you a lot but… I don't know you well enough to make love to you."

Alex chuckled. "Your soviet not mine. I simply viddy- yours truly is here if ye be interessovat.

Ophelia placed her hand over his, swallowing before she spoke. He hadn't expected her answer. "Yes…I'd…like that very much."


	5. Exploration

Scratched Record-

Disclaimer- I do not own the story book or movie, A Clockwork Orange or its characters.

Plot Summary- Alex fancies a girl who works at the record shop he goes to. However, the girl well pretty and music literate, is too pure and trusting. Will Alex take advantage of the young lady? Or will she be an exception to everything he has always stood for?

Chapter 5: Exploration

Though shocked, he grinned larger, his hand capturing hers. Alex brought the small, pale organ to his lips kissing her fingers. "There be one more thy would like to goloss before we filly…"

"Yes?" Her breath hitched when he licked her palm. The little noise removed all the good relieving himself had done.

Alex removed the hand from his face and brought her closer. His arm wrapping around her neck to embrace her. "As of late, Uncle Alex hasn't felt so spoogy by the malchick things in my past. I've been less interessovat in my droogs…and more interessovat in society. And though I can't pony how it came to be so—I viddy you my gate way to it."

Ophelia nodded, laying her head against the nook between his shoulder and neck. He had a beautiful scent—a little strong but it filled her nostrils like incense. Making her fall further into his spider web. "You fancy a droog, a companion, and a protector, and I vareet a desire become one. As such, I'd horrorshow it, if you, little sister, were to privodeet me to what it is like to be a devotchka's…beloved, as you would eemya it."

She vaguely recalled calling him that when they were pretending to be a couple. Her focus somewhat submerged when she realized what he was asking of her.

"You mean… You want me to be your girlfriend?" Ophelia looked up at him. His hand started stroking her hair as he nodded.

"Indeed, that would be a proper eemya for it. We could out and about—veshch such as the sinny, yours truly would gooly you home, and he'd keep you safe from the disc-bootick customers who'd fancy the old 'in-out, in-out with you." Alex explained, making the deal sound better than he knew It was. With a frown, he continued. "You, being the devotchka and what not, would have the rabbit of fulfilling my shilarny—physically and otherwise. And that… is not a simple thing to achieve."

"Would…I have to make love to you?" There was that word again—love. The emotion he didn't even believe he could feel. "Because...I'm not ready to do that yet. And… if I were to be your girlfriend I… would expect you to be faithful to me…"

He rolled the thought over his head. When had this little rabbit decided to make her own demands? Alex had never practiced chastity much (not much caring for anything that said you couldn't have sex) but it was part of being in a relationship with someone. It couldn't hurt to try. "I can try to skvat myself—but no assurances, Oppie-feelie-ah. I can protect you from other vecks but I cannot protect you from myself. Your Uncle Alex has a dark history, little sister. A devil of soul I doubt you can control. He will prod his best not to cause you vred—but there are no guarantees."

"Oh…"She simply responded. Ophelia moved her head so her lips were pressed against his neck. The warm feeling returned. "I can live with that I suppose. After all, your past helped make you who you are now."

"There is one last veshch." His tone becoming darker and much more serious. "Ye, malenky Oppie-feelie-ah, must never submit to the shilarny of yours truly, unless it be your will. To enter this society, I must pony limits and must orange, devotchka, and all kind. If losing you is the price I must archibald…so be it. It is how I will learn."

Ophelia pulled away to look at him. Her eyes were thoughtful, scanning over him. Trying to piece him together. Alex wanted to laugh. Very few people could read him—even fewer understood him. Even Ophelia couldn't possibly explain who he was or why he was that way. "For someone who so desires change—you really don't trust yourself, do you?"

"Ye shouldn't trust him either…" He warned. Ophelia's mouth lifted into a small grin before she placed it against his lips. To his relief, none of the excitement or comfort was gone from the kiss. If nothing else, it only grew stronger.

"I trust you, Alex. And may lighting strike me or god punish me for it." She said against his lips. Alex used the opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth, planting both of his hands to the back of her head to keep her in the kiss. Her hands tensed against him at first but eventually gave into the indulgence.

He led her to the bed, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. Ophelia yawned and stroked his skin until she nodded off to sleep. Alex had dark desires. He felt the need to use and harm the girl who had just given herself to him.

But somehow found the will to fight them off until he was asleep.

()

"Son! Breakfast is set!" Alex stirred—feeling oddly out of place being fully dressed in bed. His mind was hazy trying to explain the abnormality. The explanation came to him in the form of an arm wrapped around his body.

Ophelia was sound asleep beside him, still wearing her red jumpsuit. Her head rested against his shoulder—Alex could feel her shallow breathes against his own shirt. She reminded him somewhat of a sleeping child. His stomach rumbled but he sat still for a moment or so longer; not wanting to disturb her slumber.

Consideration. Another new thing for him. All his life, all he had cared about were his own ambitions and desires. He was only considerate when he decided to spare someone his wrath. Yet, one of first observations about courting and dating— it trusted it's will upon you and suddenly, you can't be selfish.

Before he could understand it, three knocks ended it. Ophelia jumped and her eyes flew open. "Alex, breakfast." His mother reminded—more like a suggestion than an order. It didn't matter that he was technically an adult now; his mother had been forbidden to use any other tone with him since he was thirteen.

"Is that your mum?" Ophelia asked.

"Indeed it is. Vareeted some breakfast she did. Would thee like some pishcha in thy rot, Oppie-feelie-ah?" She nodded. Alex then took her hand, leading her from his bed to his kitchen. He didn't hate the feeling of doing this. Waking up to a woman's touch and taking her to his table for breakfast. He could very easily see how this might attract Pete to a life of good.

Yet, he wasn't entirely use to it. It felt odd to him. It was like leading a different life; being a different person. A person he wasn't sure he wanted to be.

But as he had always figured; it couldn't hurt to try.

His mother and father were both at the table when Alex and Ophelia came from the hallway. His mother looked dumbfounded at Ophelia. No doubt thinking he had forgotten to push her out last night. His father played ignorant, reading his paper and paying to Alex's guest. He shot each of them an annoyed look. His mother looked away. "Morning, son—didn't know you had company."

"No excuse to be gloopy Em." Alex said in a low voice. Ophelia, unaware of the tension, smiled warmly.

"It's nice to meet you both." This time, both of the De Large parents looked up, both as shocked as if a parade had walked through their kitchen. Ophelia's smile lost an inch of its energy, but stayed strong. "I'm Ophelia—friend of your son. I hope you didn't mind me sleeping over, was too dangerous for me to return home, I'm afraid."

Mr. De Large tilted his head in confusion. Alex glared at him. "Oh, nothing of it dear. Will you be joining us for breakfast?"

"If you don't mind." Ophelia said. Alex turned to his mother. She jumped up to retrieve breakfast for the two of them. Satisfied, he walked to the table and pulled out a chair, vaguely remembered reading that it was gentlemen-like to do so. Ophelia sat down, and he took the seat next to her. Mrs. De Large returned with two plates filled with eggs, toast, jam, and potatoes.

"Ophelia was it?" After getting over her shock, Alex's mother seemed curious of her son's new friend. Alex listened cautiously—prepared to put an end to it if it got out of hand. "How did you meet our son? Do you 'work' with him?"

Alex narrowed his eyes, making his mother lean back. Ophelia obliviously answered her. "Oh no, but I did meet him at my work. I have a job at the music store… He's a regular."

"Indeed, Alex does enjoy his music and what not. Always playing it late until the night." Mr. De Large stated matter of fact like. "Didn't play any last night—I suppose I have you to thank for that."

"Pe." Alex growled but was interrupted by Ophelia's giggles. Each one of the De Large's looked to her as she stifled her laughed.

"Dear?" His mother asked. Ophelia shook her head and regained her composure.

"Sorry, terribly I am. It's just... an interesting dynamic you have. I almost feel welcomed in it."

She beamed with happiness as she continued on with her meal. Alex shrugged off his annoyance, much to the relief of his parents. It was that consideration again—as long as she was happy, he didn't feel the need to cause a scene.

The so-called dynamic family was relaxed. Suddenly, his parents didn't mind at all that Ophelia was there. In fact, he had a feeling they'd want her around more often.

()

"Alex, do you mind walking with me home? I doubt anything will happen between here and there in the day light, but I would enjoy the company."

He closed the bed room door. Ophelia turned curiously, letting her other boot hang limply in her hand. She seemed rather ridiculous with just have of her footwear on but Alex had his mind on something else. Mainly—what she had said last night.

"The nochy before—ye said it was not your desire for more ultra-violence. Where did that come from?" Ophelia frowned, her eyes for once remaining indifferent. Suddenly, the naïve friendliness he had found so interesting about her was gone—replaced with the cold, iron look he didn't know could graze her face.

The boot fell to the floor. She sighed, leaning down to pick it up. "You wouldn't want to know. No one would. I don't want to trouble you with it."

Ophelia slipped the boot onto her foot and zipped it up. Alex shrugged. He was truly curious about what about her past had made her take on this second identity but had a feeling it was better left undone. Besides, it was really none of his business, so he didn't push for it.

After a moment, she straightened her jumpsuit. Ophelia paused after slipping one sleeve of her jacket. "I get groceries too. Would you like to accompany me to the store...That's something I see couples do with one another."

It had been a long time since he had gone out for groceries. Usually, his mother kept of these things. Yet, he had seen men and women walking down the street together. Their hands filled with plastic bags and mutual responsibility.

"Privodeet me there, then."


	6. Fitting In

Scratched Record-

Disclaimer- I do not own the story book or movie, A Clockwork Orange or its characters.

Plot Summary- Alex fancies a girl who works at the record shop he goes to. However, the girl well pretty and music literate, is too pure and trusting. Will Alex take advantage of the young lady? Or will she be an exception to everything he has always stood for?

Chapter 6: Fitting In

"This is the pishcha ye consume?" Alex wondered as Ophelia put a few t.v. dinners into her cart—along with the boxed snacks and bags of fruit she already had.

"It's easier to cook this when I'm working late. That and I'm not much of a cook I'm afraid. My father always had someone cook for us when I was younger."

Alex followed as she pushed the cart forward, leaning against it for better balance. "Your pe—well off man? Lots of cutter?"

She stopped the cart, making him trip. Alex glared at her but saw that she had drifted off into the oblivion again. She returned after a moment or so. "He was very wealthy. I never went without in the sense of food, clothes, or even material desires. His money made gave us whatever we needed—and it made him powerful."

"You viddy it like something real oozhassny."

"Real what?"

"Terrible." Ophelia sighed and stopped to pick up some peanut butter and bread.

"Oh…But it was in a way. Power let him control things. Let him control me." She threw them both in the cart. "It was easy for him to keep me with him—at home, at the jazz club, anywhere because I was too afraid to question him. In a way, that's why I felt so at home with your parents—you do that to them, don't you? That's why they fear you."

Realizing she had said too much, she pushed the cart. Alex watched her—finding a great displeasure in seeing her so twisted up and sad. She had captured his attention by being so happy and at peace. She was revealing herself to be anything but. Still, something inside him—wanted to see that painfully white light smile of hers.

"Then pray govoreet me sister; why aren't ye afraid?"

He gave her no time to answer. Alex instead, stepped on the bottom rack below the cart, while putting both hands on the side of basket part. Once he balanced both feet, Ophelia had to put all her weight on handle just to keep the cart balanced. "Alex?"

He was hanging off the end of the cart, holding out his cane. People tried not to stare at him, but Ophelia did. She laughed because he was no different than a small child. "Skorry Oppie-feelie-ah! We haven't all light to waste!"

She pushed the cart down the aisle, slowly at first but eventually got use to his weight. After that, she pushed it a consistent speed. Alex couldn't remember the last time he had done something so innocently fun (not since he was an actual child), but he couldn't deny how much he enjoyed it. Or how happy Ophelia appeared.

"Can you grab some laundry soap please?" She managed to ask through her laughter. He smiled—only this one was non-threatening like his others had been. This one was not quite so natural on him but it seemed more genuine; he actually looked happy.

He used his cane to knock the soap into the cart with perfect grace. Ophelia reacted with an open-mouth impressed look. "Well, done sir."

Alex nodded his head. "Skorry, skorry sister!"

Ophelia pushed the cart faster; both of them laughing like child at play. Yet they chanted like sex—Ophelia calling something she needed, and Alex urging her to go faster.

It was oddly satisfying to him. Actually enjoying the company of another as opposed to simply tolerating them. It was a high of its own and people didn't seem to understand it. But they did.

In an odd way, they understood each other.

()

"Alex?" Ophelia asked as they approached her apartment. Alex almost didn't hear her—he was shocked by where his new girlfriend dwelled.

The apartment building was large—probably one of the largest in the city. It was pitch black, almost like Ivory, except for the large clean glass windows that seemed to round every corner. There was not a key and lock to the building but rather, Ophelia was typing in a code. "Alex?"

He snapped out of it. "Yes, Oppie-feelie-ah?"

"I… I was just …Nevermind, it's too personal."

The door beeped once, Ophelia pressed in a second code and the door popped open. With a raise eyebrow, he gathered his arm full of grocery bags (all but the two Ophelia insisted on carrying) and followed her into the apartment; the door clicking closed behind them. He followed her to the elevator—she pressed in her floor number and the doors shut. They jerked as the elevator shot up.

"What messel interessovat you about your Uncle Alex? Come now, don't go shy on him."

She bit her lip. "I was wondering how…"

The elevator door opened unexpectedly. Both looked up. A heavier set man stepped one foot in but paused when he saw Alex. His gaze flicked back to Ophelia, and then back to Alex. "Good evening, Jim."

"Evening Ophelia." He cautiously stepped into the elevator, settling between Ophelia and Alex. Only one thing made sense to Alex; the man recognized him from all the old papers. Obviously, the man wasn't happy to see him in his apartment building—let alone, with one of his female neighbors.

The elevator beeped again, this time it was their stop. Alex and Ophelia picked up the groceries and started to walk off. Jim caught Alex just before he could leave. Prepared for a fight, Alex was shocked when he heard the man say. "You don't want to be involved with this one, mate. That girl has more baggage than travelling salesmen."

He let Alex go who turned to give him a curious look. The man nodded just as the elevator doors closed. Ophelia took out a key to unlock her door when she noticed Alex hadn't followed. "Alex? Is something wrong?"

Alex turned his attention back to her. "Nothing of the sort, sister."

She pushed the door open, allowing Alex to walk in first. He did so—and was even more shocked by the inside of her apartment than the outside.

The apartment was huge, but noticeably lacking in normal furnishings. There was one worn leather couch and one table, not so different from the ones at the milk bar; only the heads had been cut off the girl. There were other statues of naked, half naked people and provocative art that Alex normally took a fancy to—all of them were broken or mutilated in some way, almost as if someone had taken their fury out of them. Even more odd were the walls—every inch being covered in writing and drawings, not all of them innocent. There was a piano and guitar set near the corner of the place- right by the endless line of tall glass bookshelves filled with the largest collection of music he had ever seen, tied right to the other end where an old record player sat above a cassette player.

He followed her into the kitchen— it looked somewhat similar to his except for the old, raggedy table that looked like it didn't belong at all. "Just set the groceries down, I'll put them away. We've missed lunch, would you like to eat now or wait until dinner?"

"Dinner." He said simply. Ophelia agreed and began putting away her groceries—just like she did at the record store. Calm, cool, and lost in her own world. Or so he thought.

"How many women have you slept with?"

"Pardon?" He asked again, unsure if he had heard her correctly. She put away the last of the groceries and turned to Alex.

"In the elevator, I wanted to ask you…." She said softly, looking down at her shoes. "How many women have you…spent the night with in the derogatory sense?"

He didn't know how to answer—literally. There had been plenty of women. Some had sex with him willingly, some he had to force. He didn't know where to begin with either group. Counting them together just made things even more complicated.

Ophelia's shoulders dropped when he couldn't answer. "That many?" She asked breathlessly.

"That many." He agreed, having no substitute for it. "Does it razdrez you?" Why did he even care? She may have been his current romantic link, but that shouldn't matter. He had never cared what others thought before.

"Well….you're clean right? No STD'S?" Alex shook his head, having had been checked by the doctor consistently his whole time in prison, and then recently had his annual check-up. And he always had himself checked—knowing well enough to see the danger he put himself in by having random sex with women. "Then…no, I guess I don't mind, I just…"

She rubbed her arm and looked up at him. Her cheeks flushed a light pink. "I guess you know already… last night was my first kiss. And…it was very good. Probably because you've done it so many times. But um…I started thinking about the other things and…"

Ophelia stopped, but didn't need to finish. A dastardly grin came over him. So his little blonde rabbit was in fact curious? He had figured as much, but hearing her actually say it was sinfully delicious.

Alex cupped her face with his hands. She gasped when he pressed his lower body against hers. She looked at him with lowered, nervous eyes. He eased her nerves by gently kissing her forehead.

"Alex…"

"Ye viddy my eemya so much." He mentioned, not sure if he realized she did.

"I like your name." Ophelia confessed, turning her head to the side, revealing her neck to him. Intrigued, he leaned down, running his tongue up her neck. The girl cried out and jumped against him. He set her back by rubbing against her again. "I won't say it so much if it bothers you…"

Submissive as always. Yet, it made her perfect to his advances. "Your bezoomny. It's no warble unless it lifts from your goloss, Oppie-feelie-ah."

"As a matter factly…" He whispered as his teeth grazed her neck. "I desire ye to warble it more."

Without warning, his teeth sunk into her neck, making her cry out again. His primal instincts submerged once again and all he could see was red. He compromised with himself—allowing himself to go crazy on Ophelia's neck, but not go further.

He nuzzled the mark before taking another bite; this time tasting blood on his tongue. The coppery taste didn't deter him; in fact, he did it a third and fourth time.

"Al—Alex!" She managed to gag, pressing her hands against his chest. Her body jerked against his, forcing him to retract his teeth. An inhumane moan escaped his own mouth.

The red was getting worse. Soon his control would be in shambles and he would 'make love' to her whether she thought it as so or called it rape. The devil stood on his shoulders, urging him to go through with it.

_Do it, brother. Rock her gulliver right out of this world! _

"Oh no…" He heard. Evil Alex reseeded just a moment to look up. Her eyes focused on his lips. He reached his hand up to his lips. His fingers were smudged with blood. "Oh no, oh no…."

The marks he had left on her neck were oozing blood. Ophelia's hand flew up to her neck as she pushed Alex away, running out of the kitchen. Alex followed her across the room and into her bathroom; catching the door as she tried to slam it shut.

Ophelia took a sharp intake of breath when she revealed her neck the mirror.

"My god—you tried to decapitate me!" She exclaimed. Alex took the hand-drying towel off its rack and ran the water in the sink until it was warm.

"Not a messel of me strength, I suppose." Alex weakly answered—feeling strangely sick. He had done much worse things to people who didn't even want his advances. Yet, his emotions had taken control yet again; and he had nearly destroyed her yet again. "Appypolly loggy, sister."

He turned the sink off, but couldn't move his hand. Had he just apologized to a woman for afflicting her physically? Ophelia took the towel and pressed it against her neck, scrubbing away the blood. Alex had expected to change—and he believed himself capable. Yet, he never would have imagined it to be so…so easy. It had taken only a small amount of guilt for him to admit his wrong doings, when before it would have taken a hell of a beating.

Ophelia took the towel away and looked in the mirror. "Don't worry yourself too much; it's already stopped bleeding. Going to leave a hell of a bruise though; but I've got a few scarves to cover it up." She looked up when Alex didn't respond. "Alex?"

"I'm….sorry." He said, trying to make sense of what he had said to her. Ophelia turned to him, shocked that he had spoken without his nadsat accent at all.

"You needn't feel bad, see?" She turned him to face her, snapping him out of his haze. With the blood gone, a bruise was all that remained on her neck, along with various small divots. It was a ghastly mark—but she was indeed okay. She placed her finger under his chin to bring him back to her face. "The pain was even bad while you were doing it. It was just the blood on your lips that scared me; now…it looks a bit like your wearing lipstick."

He looked at himself in the mirror and realized she was right. The blood smeared across his lips appeared more like lipstick—harmless as opposed to the violent attack he had really imposed. He took the towel and wiped his mouth, removing the blood from his lips.

"You know…" Ophelia said with a dirty little smile. "It was actually really exciting… Like a rush sort of… And … As much as I love the language you speak, your voice without it—well it's sort of lovely. Like a singer's voice… When was the last time you spoke without it?"

Taken back by her compliment; he had to think about it. His time after prison—he could recall, but he didn't particularly care to bring up that history. Instead, he picked the time he started speaking with it. "Twelve, perhaps thirteen years of age."

She leaned up on her toes to peck him on the lips. "I like it…It's sort of like its own art. Like when you speak—its makes music."

()

"Do ye filly?" Alex asked as his fingers graced the piano. He had always wanted to play it, but his parents never made quite enough money to pay for the lessons. Even if they did, his parents being such quiet people, really hated the idea of any kind of beautiful loud noise occurring at their apartment until he thrusted upon them.

Ophelia walked out of the kitchen, drying a fork from dinner. "Hmmm? Oh that… A bit here and there, my father always wanted me to play—that being the only thing he missed about my mum and all—but I never got much into it. The guitar was really my specialty, so I would play that and occasionally, my father would accompany me on piano."

Alex glanced at the guitar. It didn't intrigue him so much. With its limited strings and current popularity, it seemed so much less intricate than the master's choice instrument. Yet, he was curious to hear the blonde girl play it. "Care to filly a warble on old six-strings then, Oppie-feelie-ah?"

Her eyes widened; as if shocked someone would ask her for such. After a moment or so, she nodded, placing the fork and towel down and walking over to the guitar. She sat down on the piano bench, cradling the guitar across her lap. Alex sat down at the couch and watched as she tuned the cords to her liking.

She started at first with a take on the classic he loved so much—Ode to Joy. Each high note played across the guitar like a harp; so pretty and easy on the ears. Ophelia mouthed a bit with the lyrics to calm her shaking fingers. Apparently, she had never played in front of anyone besides her father.

Then, she slurred into a more popular song. One that he had heard playing occasionally, but had usually found rather redundant. It spoke of calm tranquility, and somewhat of faith in man—two things Alex had never really had in his life. However, as he heard her sing a bit louder, joining her guitar in synergy, he listened to every lyric like gospel.

_When I find myself in times of trouble, mother Mary comes to me,  
speaking words of wisdom, let it be.  
And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me,  
speaking words of wisdom, let it be._

Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be.  
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

Her fingers stopped suddenly. "You don't like it?"

Alex took a breath, not realizing he had become so warped in it. No, it wasn't that at all. "Bezoomny… Your Uncle Alex just never…messel how polly money this sister truly is."

It was true, with her musician's hands, pure happiness, and kind spirit, what he once thought was plain never seemed more tranquil to him. It just took a Beatles song and the girl playing it for him to realize such.

He was ashamed to admit it; so he didn't. But at that moment, he began to see what normal men could see in women like Ophelia. They saw good; and even he couldn't hate her for being so.

**2****nd**** Disclaimer: I do not own the song 'Ode to Joy' or the song/lyrics to the song 'Let it Be' by the Beatles. **


	7. In the Rain

Scratched Record-

Disclaimer- I do not own the story book or movie, A Clockwork Orange or its characters.

Plot Summary- Alex fancies a girl who works at the record shop he goes to. However, the girl well pretty and music literate, is too pure and trusting. Will Alex take advantage of the young lady? Or will she be an exception to everything he has always stood for?

Chapter 7: In the Rain

The next few weeks were more scheduled than ever, yet our former narrator didn't seem to mind.

Alex would wake up, usually, in Ophelia's apartment but occasionally; he'd get up and go over to her apartment for breakfast. After cleaning up, Ophelia would play more guitar while teaching Alex (who had somewhat of a natural talent for it) to play piano.

Then just before lunch, Ophelia usually left for work. Alex would walk her there and then perhaps meet Pete for lunch. After which, he often hung out at the bookstore, picking out novels or sheet music. If he got bored there, he might return home to pick up some things or rest until around seven—then he'd pick up Ophelia and they'd walk back to her apartment where they talked and played some more—most of the time, late into the night.

Weekends, when Ophelia didn't have to work, they'd hang out around the apartment until evening—then they'd go to the jazz café. Despite Alex's insistence that they weren't good; Ophelia knew that it was growing on him.

"You have nothing to say about the band tonight, Alex?" No he didn't, for the first time in the two weekends they gone there. Tonight, it was simply a man playing the piano, singing in that soulful voice Ophelia seemed so fond of. She smiled when he shrugged. "Nothing at all?"

"Ye and I could filly much more horrorshow." He confessed with a smile. Ophelia stared at him for a moment and then erupted into small giggles.

"I guess I should have known. The only way you'd ever admit to loving jazz is if Beethoven played it. So devoted to your favorites, you can't let another genre in to play."

"All Uncle Alex viddied was that he and his malenky devotchka could do better." Alex stated, trying to hide the smile that spilled across his face. Ophelia had become bolder with him. Not so much when he took their kisses and affections too far, or when he appeared annoyed, but more when they were out and about. Perhaps he wasn't the only one learning to let other in.

Ophelia took on a dreamy, far-off look. "Sometimes I dream of doing so; trying this business myself. After all, music was the only thing I was really any good at and that was because my father approved so much of it."

Ophelia's mysterious father again. She'd go on about him every so often, but she still refused to say why her father had kept her so isolated from the world or how he died. Alex didn't even bother to ask anymore; she'd change the subject before he even got the chance. "So, why have ye never vareeted this messel?"

"Fear that I wasn't good enough." She answered. Alex gave her an odd look, which she mistook for something else. "My father—he loved my music but always said I must practice to be better. I couldn't imagine why he'd keep asking me to practice unless…I wasn't as good as I thought I was. I guess I just never had the courage to go forth with it so… I settled for working at the record store."

She went further into the dream-like state. "You and I—could imagine it? Playing in places such as these? You on the piano, myself on guitar. Perhaps doing spins of the classics or music of our own creation."

Alex pondered the thought. When they were together, they did play beautiful music. Alex himself had never had such a dream. And if he did, he had lost it so long ago, that he almost felt silly trudging up one now.

But didn't normal people dream? "Quit your job at the disc-bootick? To accompany your amateur Uncle Alex?"

Ophelia shrugged, a faint smile crossing her lips. "Bezoomny, I know." He chuckled at how odd her voice made his nadsat sound. Was that what it was like to hear him speak without it? Underneath the initial discomfort of change, there was a sort of sweetness about it. Like a fallen angel regaining entrance into heaven. "But... Who would care if we made it or not? Just making music as opposed to selling it would make me happy. To finally feel….content would make me happy…"

How odd it was it that two completely different people had a similar goal in mind? Both just searching for happiness is the easiest way they knew how.

Both hoping to finding this happiness in each other—and ever day, Alex believed more and more that she could give it to him.

()

That Monday, Alex trekked up to Ophelia's apartment building with a notebook paper. Having forgotten his wallet, Ophelia hesitantly decided to give him the codes to her apartment. He was somewhat annoyed by her hesitance to simply let him have entrance to her home (since he had lived there for the past few weeks himself) yet, couldn't blame her for wanting to keep herself safe, especially from the likes of him.

He punched in the first of numbers—8276, and then as instructed, waited for the door to beep. When it did, he pressed in the second set—0209.

"Hold the door, if you would!" Alex looked over his shoulder—seeing the Jim fellow from the night before moseying up the stairs and panting like out of breath. He bemused the idea of stepping in and locking the door, particularly after what he said about Ophelia. However, his curiosity of that same moment got the better of him and he held the door open.

Alex stepped in after him, thinking of how he was going to approach the subject. He didn't have to. The large man beat him to the punch. "Sir, do you have any clue of what you're getting involved with?"

"Do ye viddy that of Ophelia, malchick?" Alex began in a low tone, not even realizing he had spoken her true name rather than his nickname for her.

He frowned at Alex's tone, a certain fear striking him. Around here, Alex never wore his street clothing, but it took more than a style to be dangerous. People could be allured by Alex, but at the same time, know exactly how deadly he was. "Yes—you really have no idea of who she is, do you mate?"

Odd, up until this point, he thought himself to be the only one who knew her. "Enlighten me, brother."

The man pointed to the mailboxes occupying that particular wall. Alex raised an eyebrow at Jim who nodded him forward. With a shrug Alex stepped forward and looked at the boxes.

He found Ophelia's room number under the name Sybalt. Alex never once realized he didn't know her last name; she never spoke it and no one else called her as such. "Does that name ring any bells for you boy?"

Alex shook his head, keeping himself in check so not to punish the man for dare calling him a boy.

"Sybalt. As in Bill Sybalt? Ophelia is his daughter." Jim said gravely.

Something set in his brain. Alex had heard of Bill Sybalt. He was one of the largest dealers in drencrom—he owed a number of the milk bars he had visited with his droogs. Bill Sybalt was considered one of the big reasons this city was falling apart. A notorious mobster who killed without merit and did it at a whim. Who had never been caught until about a year before his capture—and then killed himself in prison before standing trial.

That man was sweet, gentle, polite Ophelia's father? Impossible. Inconceivable!

Although—it somewhat made sense. It explained why Ophelia kept her father's identity sealed away. Also as to how he became so rich and why Ophelia was sheltered away; so he could keep her away from his enemies.

But there was so much it didn't explain—like why Ophelia worked at the record store, or even more perplexing, how she came to be created out of the nectar of a man who challenged Alex's crimes at times.

Jim must have scurried away shortly after that. Alex was alone in the lobby with his thoughts. He carried them with him up to her apartment; using the key she had let him borrow to open it. He could not let this go, he decided.

Just when he thought the girl couldn't confuse him more.

()

"Alex, do you know someone by the name of Pete?" Ophelia asked as they strolled home from her work. He appeared calm, but on the inside, was unsure and annoyed, clutching the new piano books he had bought earlier.

"An old droogie of mine, why?"

"He came by the shop today. He knew me by name and seemed rather excited to meet me. Said that you two were good friends. Even invited me to his wife's baby shower." Ophelia offered him a warm smile. "I didn't know you spoke about me to your friends."

He had almost forgotten about the conversation he had with Pete a few weeks ago. Alex wasn't sure if he should be angry for Pete butting into his business or relieved that Ophelia hadn't taken offense to it. He then asked his favorite question as of late—why did he even give a damn? "Pete's the only one. No other droogs as of late, I'm afraid."

"Because of me." She said simply, but sadly. Feeling guilty that Alex had lost Len, Rick, and Bully because he had defended her. Alex hadn't even told her about the word getting around. The boys in the gangs could only talk of how he nearly killed his own—all for a pretty blonde girl. It was law in these gangs; never fight over a female unless it was over who got to in-out, in-out with her first. He had broken that cardinal rule. There was even talk that Alex was becoming vulnerable. All lies of course; he cut any man who tried to take what was his.

And as for the moment, Ophelia was his.

"Sister, it sloochats at raz. A malchick grows to be a fully formed veck and grows weary of the ultra violence he and his brothers' cause. Ye had nothing to do with it." But somehow, that felt like a lie. Or at least part of one.

"Is that why you started speaking to me that day? Because you were tired of your old life?" Ophelia asked quietly. He thought about it for a second—remembering how months ago he started to notice Ophelia, believing her to plain and average. Yet many facts had turned up since then. Now it appeared the young woman was anything but average. He had once thought her to be a naïve little dupe with a pretty face— he could hardly believe that same girl was actually a former mob princess with a spirit for music.

He had in fact, started speaking to her because he was unfulfilled. With no expectations of being fulfilled.

Suddenly, it began to rain. At first, slow and caress-like. Then just as they stopped to admire it; it started to pour. The cold water made him shiver but always set him alive—as if chilled the breath back into him.

Ophelia wrapped her arms around herself, half-jittering, half-laughing. He watched her with interest. "You fancy rain, Oppie-feelie-ah?" She nodded carefully, releasing a visible breath of air. Alex gave this some thought—Ophelia's apartment was still so far away, his apartment not much closer. His thin-skin rabbit, despite declaring her love for the rain, was breaking before him and honestly wondered if she'd make it the rest of the way home.

He did know of one place. Alex scolded himself for thinking of doing so, but it would only be until the rain settled. And it was a place her father had been personally involved in.

Besides, perhaps if he was to expect any truth from her lips; he should give her the same.

**Authors note: Thank you all so much for all the kind reviews and the story alerts and favorites! I was so afraid that this story wouldn't be well received and it feels fantastic to be shown otherwise! I just hope it continues to please, thanks again!**


	8. The Milk Bar

Scratched Record-

Disclaimer- I do not own the story book or movie, A Clockwork Orange or its characters.

Plot Summary- Alex fancies a girl who works at the record shop he goes to. However, the girl well pretty and music literate, is too pure and trusting. Will Alex take advantage of the young lady? Or will she be an exception to everything he has always stood for?

Chapter 8: The Milk Bar

He wrapped a protective arm around her as they entered the Milk Bar, a place he hadn't been since before he met her. Ophelia stopped as soon as they entered through the door. Despite being wet and cold, her shivers had stopped immediately. "Why are we here?"

Alex realized that she recognized the place. His usually oblivious girlfriend had known where they were the moment they walked through the door and didn't question it, and it pretty much confirmed everything he had heard about her. "Thy wouldn't viddy you'd fancy getting ill in the pour, would thee not?"

"Can't we just—" Alex grabbed her elbow and pulled her over to a seat. Shaking his head to a passing waiter who was about to bring them a few cups. Ophelia's skin was paling white before him; making him wonder if it really was such a good idea to bring her here. After a moment or so, she gave in, realizing the rain wasn't going to let up any time soon so they could leave. "How did you know?"

"That brother from your domy; govoreeted to your Uncle Alex out of 'concern'." He said it with malice—perhaps believing it should have been his job to protect her from him. After all, Ophelia's only apparent sin was actually her father's; he was the one who had been sent to prison. "The orange claimed that your pe… this place was his."

"It was." She spoke with a shrug, looking down at her clasped hands. "It's not anymore; his partner inherited all the illegal businesses, with the condition that I get the apartment, his money, and his processions. Killed himself just before trial so that new law wouldn't take away any of it from me. After all, you can't convict a dead man…"

So, the same law that had taken away many of Alex's priceless processions years before had robbed his blonde rabbit of her father. He couldn't ever imagine himself, or a mobster like Bill Sybalt for that matter, giving up his life for the good of anyone, but maybe it was because he didn't know a damn thing about loving someone more than yourself, let alone, what it's like to be a father.

"Why does Oppie-feelie-ah work at the disk-bootick, then? Aren't ye buried in cutter?"

Her fingers dug into her own skin. "I…I gave it up." Alex narrowed his eyes, trying to understand what she meant. "The family of the victim my father was arrested for murdering sued his estate for wrongful death—me and his partner, but I gave them my fortune so it never went to court. I… I didn't want the money, Alex. It was blood money. Countless have died for it, and I sure as hell didn't want it."

He was shocked, not believing that Ophelia could have ever let a cussword slip from her lips. Perhaps even more shocking, was the angry tone her voice was beginning to take. She continued on. "See… All my life my father had told me he was protecting me. That the streets would eat me alive because I was weak and he could protect me because he was strong. He never once dared to tell me it was his doing that had made the streets so horrible and vile. All he would tell me was that I would never want to see it…And now because of it, I have no idea how to live amongst this world. I admit he was right. This is a town of filth and disgust but I have hope that one day it won't be. That if one person took the time to burn the past and …smiled once in awhile …maybe the future would be better."

"After all…Not everyone can be like my father." With that, Alex unclenched his fist—allowing his cane to fall to the ground. An expression of wonder on his face as he finally understood her.

She wasn't oblivious or ignorant to how terrible the world was around her. Ophelia had known all along just what kind of vermin waited in the darkness. But in her own little way, had played dumb simply because she didn't know how to make it better. Yet, she had never given up hope that it would improve.

The idea was ridiculous to him. He was never one to believe that ignoring something would make it go away. At the same time, he was surprised that the girl was even standing. From personal experience, he knew it took a resilient person to survive this place—and it took a very unbreakable sort of person to do so with a smile.

They were the same in that sort of way. Mankind could spit in their face; and they'd simply marvel at it. "Do ye even have a messel what sort of veck your Uncle Alex is, Ophelia?"

Her eyes widened at the use of her proper name. "Alex?"

"I'm a baddiwad sort of type, sister. The nochy I rescued you? I planned to in out, in-out with you… As I've forced upon so many devotchka's before. I've caused more vred in my short life than your snuffed pe has probably participated in his entire career. I've…oobivat a baboochka once. Spent time in the strpy hole because of it—did not a damn thing! I stand before you just as oozhassny as I was so long ago." Alex left out the conditioning—deciding that part didn't need to be known as of right now. It was the only thing in his life he felt was traumatic enough to hide.

Ophelia stared open-mouth at him for a moment. It felt like forever to him. He waited for her to call him a monster, to run away from his life as quickly as she had entered it. He expected it; somehow dreaded it, but expected it none the less.

But _why did he care_? He asked himself at long last. It never mattered before if someone left his life; usually, it was good riddance. Why would he give half a damn if some wide-eyed girl ran away from him now? Alex asked the question often enough, but no answer never came from it.

It didn't matter—Ophelia was unexpected yet again. "I don't think that's true…."

He growled; feeling suddenly enraged. Rather it was because she had defied his assumption or because she was being an ignorant fool yet again, he couldn't be sure. "What you think? Ophelia it is truth! Viddy the records yourself if you don't believe it!"

"No, Alex…I mean… I don't believe you're as evil now as you were." She leaned over to kiss his lips. The gentle warm soothing the beast yet again. He practically purred; her kisses had become more confident, more forceful. He did enjoy the idea of the girl desperate for him; practically begging for him. When the kiss broke, she edged his features with her fingers. "An evil man would have hurt me by now…"

Well aware that the gangs—some of which he had formerly known—were watching. Alex smirked pulling her back to him. "Give it time, dear sister. Give it time."

()

"I can't stand it, I can't!" Bully growled as he watched them from afar. Rick flashed him a bored look, but Len appeared just as annoyed as the biggest of the group did. So it was true; Alex De Large had become involved with that rag doll devotchka.

It was still quite bothersome that their former master had given up everything for such a listless thing. Perhaps if the woman had some meat on her hips and milk on her chest, but this shrew—he couldn't understand it. Thin, dull, and uninteresting to him. Pretty maybe, but not nearly enough for him to consider turning on his droogs.

Then again, Len considered himself a loyal sort. To him, it was like committing adultery. It made him sick to see their former droog—sometimes considered the maddest and most legendary of droogs—caving to the whims of an unimpressive female. But what could he do? Whether he was serious about her or not, Alex was still impulsive and dangerous.

"Ye have too, droog. Though I do messel that our little Alex shall to be brought back to earth." His eye twitched as Alex helped her off the couch, grabbed his cane and led her to the exit. Away from this place filled with haunting demons who would have loved to hurt her. Len himself, wanted to go around with her despite his overall disapproval of her appearance; simply because he wanted to break Alex's toy.

"Pardon gentlemen…"

"Get lost ye gloopy bratchny!" Rick responded. A tall man smiled down at them through a stream of rain drops (obviously having just escaped the rain). Considering his muscle stature, Len doubted the man was truly afraid of their threats.

"I apologize sirs, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. Are you…. familiar with Mr. De Large?"

"He be snuffed to me…" Bully said in a low voice. Len considered the man before making room on the couch for him to sit.

"We were droogs; that was before that malenky sharp came about. Why is it your shilarny to viddy, veck?"

The man leaned into the group and answered. "How would you boys feel about exacting a little payback against Mr. De Large for wronging you?"

All three seemed to light up. Len smirked. "Go on then… We're listening."

()

A few days later, Alex had visited the bookstore after dropping Ophelia off at work. He had picked up a few piano books as well as a few books of empty sheet music; deciding that he desire to start writing his own music.

As he walked to the front, his glance casted to the side and he noticed the Shakespeare section. Curious, he stopped to take a look through it.

Sure enough, he landed _Hamlet_, the book credited of having Ophelia's namesake in it. His fingers lifted the book so he could get a closer look. It was a story they preached and nagged about in high school, but he never really saw the so-called beauty in it.

Nonetheless, he piled the book on top of the others and went to make his purchase.

Afterwards, he walked to the café where he was meeting Pete for lunch. While there, Alex began reading _Hamlet_. Alex was somewhat surprised by how easy the language came to him; though he assessed that it wasn't much different than his own language. He was also pleased that he didn't hate the story—just the opposite, it seemed to grow on him.

"Good day Alex." Pete said as he sat across from him, reaching his hand up to order a drink. Pete smiled when he saw the cover of his book. "_Hamlet_? Are you reading that because of Ophelia?"

"What of it?" He said, marking the page and closing the book. "And what's this I slooshy of ye seeking her out?"

"Relax friend, I just happened to be looking for some music when I saw her and realized she fit your description. She is really pretty Alex, nice too. I can see why you think so highly of her."

After they made their orders, Pete looked at the other books Alex had purchased. "Sheet music? Do you play music?"

"Piano, mostly the greats but Oppie-feelie-ah includes her own icons at times."

"Would you by chance know any lullabies? Not your style, I know, but that was actually what I was doing at the record shop, the other day." Pete said, and then added. "Or perhaps Ophelia would know some? Maybe play some at Georgina's baby shower?"

Alex gave no answer; only a shrug. Pete didn't seem bothered by it. The lunch continued on with light conversation.

But Alex did think of the 'lullabies' his droog had asked for—and did wonder if he or his girlfriend knew of any.

()

"Well, there's the classic Brahm's lullaby." Ophelia said later that night. The two were sitting at the piano, sharing the bench as lovers tended to do. "Then… Billy Joel wrote a lullaby for his daughter if they wanted something more modern."

Alex's fingers drifted over the keys. "Can't govoreet that I truly pony their desires. Lullaby was Petey's only request."

Then an idea came to him. He tested a few notes—each one in a different variation until they came together. With a smile, he pulled out the book of empty sheet music and showed it to her. "What if ye and Uncle Alex wrote a lullaby for the spawn?"

Ophelia paused as she pondered it. "I didn't think you cared about their baby much."

He waved it off. "Ye govoreeted how much ye wanted to make warble. Why not?"

A smile crossed her lips, he entire face lighting up. "I think it's a horrorshow idea."

He smiled back at another attempt at his language and wrote down the notes he had just made; leaving him completely unprepared for her next question. "Alex, do you ever want to have children?"

His hand stopped—he had to think about the question. Lately, he had desire to procreate beyond the feelings intercourse brought. From the crumbled up picture to taking notice of Ophelia in the first place; it was all a building block to his own desire to create a baby.

Alex couldn't help but wonder what a baby of his and Ophelia's would look like. Blonde probably, his parents both being so naturally (his mother did like to fiddle with colors), and Ophelia's hair being so naturally light itself, he would guess at least one of her parents to be blonde. Probably light colored eyes too—perhaps a wonderful mixture of Ophelia's green to his blue, creating a sea green. Yes, he could see a bright, curly haired, handsome lad smiling his devils smile. Or maybe a young daughter of his own to serve and protect—baring Ophelia's wide pearl-like teeth. It would be a very beautiful child.

And his heart ached for this heir in ways he couldn't understand. "I would fancy viddying my krovvy in the veins of a malenky malchick or devotchka one day. What of you, Oppie-feelie-ah?"

"I would like maybe a child or two. Not too many." She murmured, trying a few notes of her own. With a sigh, she leaned her head onto his shoulder. A gesture that suggested that she was perhaps becoming too comfortable with him. "I'd be afraid though."

Of course she would say that, the anger rising through him. He had always thought himself to be high stalk—athletic, musical, intelligent, the perfect son. But in a way, his imprisonment had humbled him; it made him realize that not every woman would want to bare a child of convicted felon. Broken goods were broken goods; no matter how pretty they once were.

And just as he was about to take his anger on her; she continued. "I'm frightened that I'll become as possessive over my children as my father was over me. The way he kept me locked at home left me utterly unprepared for the world—and at times, his love made him think it was okay to…." She had to stop for a moment, her breath hitching as she tried to think of word for it. Alex frowned when he realized just what she was trying to say. "Restrict me by any means. It's odd—As horrified as I was over the laws he broke, the people he hurt, or the murders he committed. I will always hate him most for the oppressive love he bared for me."

"It's selfish I know but… I never want another child to feel as hopeless as I did." She stood from the piano bench, replacing her head with her hand on Alex's shoulder. "Excuse me—but I think I need a warm bath to sooth my nerves."

Alex watched as the rabbit scurried back to her hole. Thinking for certain that he hadn't seen the tear that escaped down her face; maybe not caring if he did. He felt a dull sickening over him as he felt a new emotion—the sister to the so-called empathy he felt earlier.

Sympathy. He felt terrible for her experiences and he didn't like it. The only time he wanted to feel bad was when something bad was happening to him, not someone else.

But he did. And the only thing he could think to do was give his Oppie-feelie-ah a few minutes to herself—and then try to give her comfort. It was the only thing he could think of to put his mind at ease.


	9. Hallelujah

Scratched Record-

Disclaimer- I do not own the storybook or movie, A Clockwork Orange or its characters. I also don't owe the play Hamlet, or it's characters and quotes.

Plot Summary- Alex fancies a girl who works at the record shop he goes to. However, the girl well pretty and music literate, is too pure and trusting. Will Alex take advantage of the young lady? Or will she be an exception to everything he has always stood for?

Chapter 9: Hallelujah

Ophelia rubbed the towel over before tossing it aside with her shaking fingers. No, not even a warm bath and a good cry could sooth her nerves. Not when he was so close.

Alex had opened up her Pandora's box; making her face the evils she had tried so hard to forget. In a way, she was relieved that someone was there to share them with her; but at the same time she was afraid, because it made her more attached to him.

It was making her fall in love with him. And she still hadn't decided if that was a good idea or not.

Preoccupied with her thoughts, she walked out of the master bathroom into her bedroom, only wearing a towel around her body. It was until she reached her dresser, that she realized she wasn't alone. "Bloody hell…"

With a gasp she turned and saw Alex, sitting on the bed, a dark smile crossing his lips. Ophelia clutched the towel close to her body, trying to cover her pure skin from his tainting eye. "What are you doing in here?"

"Well, well, where did those appear from?" He chuckled nudging his head down to her bust, which had always seemed small up until now. With a blush covering her skin, she looked down, away, anywhere but his eyes.

"I… I'm not sure. I…I m-m-made no attempts to cover them up. " She stammered. Alex rose from bed and walked over to her. He hadn't planned for this, but couldn't hide the satisfaction he felt at watching her squirm; not to mention seeing her body unrestricted. For the past couple weeks when he's stayed the night, they'd stay up until tired and simply go to bed. A steady streak of resilience on his part.

Not that he hadn't thought about it. In the late nights, his dreams seemed to be all about corrupting this light before him. He forced her chin up so she could look him in the eyes. Those fearful, terrified eyes. "Would ye be less shilarny if I was bare as well, sister?"

She responded with only a gasp, as his body sandwiched hers between himself and the dresser. Her mind started racing, barely able to comprehend what he had told her. "I'm…Sorry?"

"You heard me." He growled. His eyesight once again falling into variations of red. No color had ever looked more beautiful on the girl—his control was spiraling so much he couldn't even communicate in his language any longer—he instead gave way to the simple English they taught in schools; that stood against anarchy.

Crimson spread across her cheeks as pink hands fumbled with his shirt. When he grew frustrated from her slowness, he took it upon himself to rip them off; having much practice in doing so. Once his shirt was removed, he removed his pants, undergarments and lastly; the towel wrapped around her body.

The monochromatic color swirled as he dragged her to the bed. Each time he touched her bringing him a tad closer to the edge. If he were to loose sight of her; her white coloring, - if he were to make her as red as the world around him, would it be a sign of passion and deep devotion? Or would he simply mark her as his as he had done to so many before?

Did she even want to be his? The sounds she made suggested yes, but her lips had not yet declared it. Alex simply wanted to bog with it all, and take her anyway. Give in to his natural self.

But he hadn't been his natural self; not with her. She had made a different man out of him, so she only deserved respect. A simple voice of concern. Something to show that he gave a damn about her, at least more so than the others. _"Lady, shall I lie in your lap?"_

It was a scene he had remembered from _Hamlet_. Ophelia perhaps remembering the reference sat up, looking at him with that hazy expression. "Alex?"

No. Hamlet. Not that it mattered. The two really weren't so different. Hamlet was just as cold as he was; just as selfish and arrogant. Used his Ophelia just as much as Alex used his own. The only difference between them was that Hamlet thrusted himself into insanity. Alex was born with it. It only made since that he would match Hamlet's words. "_I mean, my head upon your lap_."

Ophelia's eyes widened in realization. For a second, she had a look of panic. Alex felt as if she'd say no; then he didn't what he'd do. He could try to restrain himself, but his fingers roamed her body without his mind telling them to do so. He was losing control of himself.

He could have shouted hallelujah when she told him. _"Aye, my lord."_

"_Do you think I meant country matters?" _Alex whispered in an almost angry whisper. More possessive than anything else. Looking her right in the eyes so there'd be no doubt what they were saying.

With a nod she countered. The tone not at all matching the words, but the message clear as day. _"I think nothing, my lord…"_

It was all he needed. His lips pressed against hers. She was engulfed in pure red—blood red. It was a beautiful color, almost as beautiful as she was. Yet before becoming off the scale drunk he managed to whisper.

"Forgive me if I am to hurt you, Oppie-feelie-ah."

In a equally drunk voice she responded. "You couldn't hurt me, if you tried."

Lies. He thought. But somehow, that in itself seemed like a lie. And he was too lost in the rabbit hole to decide what was true and what was not anymore.

()

"Ophelia's the wenches eemya." Len explained. It had turned out the tall man wasn't their employer, but was in fact working for the true Alex De Large hater. He had graciously invited the boys into a horrorshow of house, offered them the finest drinks, and treated them like family instead of strangers.

"I see…" The employer said with a bemused smile. "And how long have they been dating? How serious is he about her."

"Can't viddy it, but Little Alex must think this devotchka horrorshow if he's chassoing her so closely. More than most cheena's anyway." Rick responded, carelessly flipping through a book he had picked off the shelf. The tall man from earlier took the book and placed it on the shelf, earning him a nod of thanks from his master. "What do you messel of this?"

The employer scratched his chin—not so much in thought as it was in annoyance. "We'll have to bide our time. Let him get as attached to her as possible."

"How long?" Bully asked impatiently not even bothering to hide his hatred for Alex. The man shrugged.

"Few weeks, few months. The longer the better but really until I see some real commitment to her. Until then, you boys will keep an eye on them; try to seem as normal as possible."

Bully was about to interject, but the employer cut him off. "Now, now, I know he's done each of you wrong; he's done me very wrong. It's just as difficult for me to wait as the rest of you, but imagine how much it'll hurt!" He clenched his calloused hand and leaned forward from his chair. "When we rip the woman he loves from him in the most cruel way. It'll be like taking the breath from his body! It'll be the perfect retribution—a true show of karma."

Len saw the hateful look in the mans face, and realized it ran much deeper for him than it did even to them. This was beyond their childish rejection; this man didn't want to put Alex in place; he wanted to remove him completely, and Len absolutely **loved** it.

The man turned his wheel chair; gazing at the picture hanging over them. A beautiful woman staring back at them; one that Len believed this so called… F. Alexander loved.

()

He watched her sleep. It baffled Alex how innocent she still looked; even with her virginity removed, she was still white as snow. It escaped him; how could she still be so interesting to him?

Alex had somewhat worried himself over what would happen when morning came. He knew in his heart that after 'making love' to her, he'd be bored of her and the poor girl would get her heart shredded. The only comfort he'd take was that by morning, he wouldn't care so much about her anymore. It would be nothing to him, perhaps devastating to her, but he would be gone by then.

The opposite had happened; last night was the best night of his sexual life. Despite her naïve nature, Ophelia had wanted to please him; even crying when she thought she had done nothing wrong. It was slow, sloppy, and emotional; but bog it was fantastic! And what's more; he had done so without causing her any real pain; nor did he feel the immense desire to leave her. In fact, the very thought seemed…cruel to him. He couldn't even think of it!

**It's a sort of unconditional love…**

Love? Pete's words came flying back to him. He tried to shake his head of them immediately. Alex De Large didn't love! That was too human for him, a bog himself, to even think of! No one, not even Ophelia could make him believe in that word.

But why was he still then? In her bed after a night of the good old in-out, in-out? Why had he forsaken his droogs for her? Remained with her after discovering paternity? Put himself and reputation on the line over and over again?

**She's never asked me to be a better person, but I try to because I want to do good by her.**

He hasn't wanted to commit any crime since they've been together. In fact, he's been almost…kind and patient. Pleasant even. Even with his parents, he's been less moody with them, not that he's been around them lately but to her…he's been almost nothing but gentlemen like. And it's all been for her benefit.

**She's like my angel…**

She was his angel. Ophelia was everything that was good, everything that was wonderful about life. She was strong in her own way, uniquely loving towards life known and unknown. Ophelia was everything he wasn't but somehow, it made her more attractive. To have ever found her plain, he must have been blind by the light she reflected. She was beautiful—naïve with defense for herself- but his to protect.

It rocked him like an earthquake. Lighting stuck and suddenly, he realized that the impossible had happened. Hell had frozen over. Pigs had flown.

And Alex had fallen in love.

"Mmm, Alex…" Ophelia muttered, perhaps waking from a dream about last night. With a shaking hand, he stroked her shoulder, earning him an unaware smile. Her eyes opened as she laid across her back, opening her eyes to him. "That was…incredibly horrorshow…"

She felt the shivering hand on her shoulder and shot him a confused look. "Is…is something wrong?"

He gave her a small smile and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Nothing be the matter, Oppie-feelie-ah. Just messeling, I am."

"Oh…" Alex then brought himself out of the bed to pick his clothing off the floor.

"Saturday, is it not?"

"Yes it is, so I don't have to work today. I was thinking maybe we could work on the lullaby and maybe go the jazz club later. Would you like that?" She said leaning on her elbows and drawing her knees up. Alex gave her a sympathetic look.

"Appypolly loggy, sister… I fear Uncle Alex has other veshch this day. Em and pe worry over their son…I should drop in at domy to show them he lives." Ophelia did seem a bit disappointed by this; maybe even afraid he wouldn't return. "Don't vred yourself… He'll be back in time to take her to hear some jazzy. That he can very much do."

"Alright then….Do you mind if I work on the lullaby myself?" Ophelia asked, just as he collected the last of his things.

"Fine enough to me." He shrugged, turning towards the bathroom. Just before he entered, Alex stopped, leaning against the door. As soon as the words would lift from his mouth, he wouldn't be able to take them back. It was dangerous ground he was walking on; only it wasn't his skin on the line. Yet, in an entirely different way, he had lost control. No use hiding it; he had already accepted it; realized it to be true.

So he simply was out with it. "I love you."

"What did you say?" Ophelia responded almost immediately. Swallowing his pride, he turned to her. She wouldn't have believed it if he had said it last night; when passion was at play and anyone would say anything to get their due. But he had no reason to say it after the fact; long after it even. She still couldn't believe her ears though— especially when she was so sure he'd be gone.

"I love you, Ophelia." Alex repeated, this time looking back at her. Her look of shock was amusing to him, after opening and closing her mouth a few times, she gave him a response.

"I…love you too, Alex."

As soon as he walked into the bathroom and closed the door, she got dressed in her pajamas and prepared a small breakfast of fruit and returned to her (more Alex's now) piano. He emerged from the bedroom dressed, clean, and ready to face the day.

"I shall return about seven afterlunch… Be ready to go out then, eh beloved?" He said, teasing her with her own nickname. She nodded.'

"Alright, tell your parents I said hello."

Alex smiled, as he was about to walk out the door. "Will do, then."

As soon as the door shut, the piano ceased. Ophelia began to cry. Deep, earth shattering sobs squeezed out of her as she fought to keep herself breathing. Tears fell like last night as she allowed herself to release the emotions she had held in when he told her he loved her.

It was because it had finally happened. Something good came of trusting another human being. Not only that, but someone loved her without using her or making her miserable. It wasn't her fathers controlling, compulsive love—but love that came from accepting someone as they were and allowing them to be that person.

Most of all, she cried because for once she had done something the didn't blowup in her face. She had given her love and received love in return.

And it was from Alex nonetheless.


	10. Happiness

Scratched Record-

Disclaimer- I do not own the storybook or movie, A Clockwork Orange or its characters. I also don't owe the play Hamlet, or it's characters and quotes.

Plot Summary- Alex fancies a girl who works at the record shop he goes to. However, the girl well pretty and music literate, is too pure and trusting. Will Alex take advantage of the young lady? Or will she be an exception to everything he has always stood for?

Chapter 10: Happiness

"Alex, my boy, what can I do for you?" The minister of interior's voice was friendly, but Alex could see him squirm through their little play. It was obvious he (Alex) was nothing more than an inconvenience to the whole government. Better swept under the rug and forgotten like most mistakes were desired to be. Alex had simply been smarted than most mistakes.

Alex walked in, allowing the door to be shut behind him. He lay across the couch, giving the MOI a friendly smile. "Horrorshow office, friend."

MOI hated seeing him on the couch, but responded ever so kindly. "Glad you think it so; took many years of hard work and honest. Work I hope your not here to disrupt…"

"Don't be bezoomny! Thy wouldn't messel ruining the hard work of such fine blokes…As it so happens….I want to be a part of that work.

MOI lost his smile the minute those words left his mouth. "I don't understand….You already work here."

"I mean real work, veck. A real job, real hours, and real cutter." Alex stretched one leg over the other, shooting him a confident smirk. "That is, if you shilarny yours truly to come forward about all the vred you millcents, government sorts, and others wise put him through. Oh! The press would find it so horrorshow, would they not?"

The look on the older mans face was one of anger, disgust, and hopelessness. There was no way he could refuse Alex's demands. As usual, the young Alex was leading this dance of civility and kindness, and just as the undercoating was revealed—so was the fact that the young man had won.

"What's with the sudden interest Alex? I thought society was of no interest to you? Now, you wish to play Mr. Everyman?"

Alex tsked. "Not filly, veck….No, no. I stand before you a new man, sir. I say on to you, my intentions are sladky, even if they seem oozhassny."

MOI narrowed his eyes, gauging Alex and his word. He was taught never to trust the young—today's youth being so troublesome and what not, but a part of him realized just how valuable Alex could be. He certainly wasn't politician material, but he could prove to be an excellent leader. He could very well be the very thing to stop his generation.

Alex simply wanted to move deeper into society. He didn't expect to make much out of this job or to become the best whatever he could be. He was running out of money—money that he had attained in less than honorable ways. And if Ophelia considered her father's money to be blood money—than she certainly wouldn't approve of the money he had now.

This was the next step to becoming a normal man—and there fore the next step to acquiring a life with her.

()

"Really? Social work?" Ophelia asked, apparently shocked when Alex had told her about his new job at the Jazz bar. "Doing what exactly?"

"Reporting." He explained simply. "They fancy your Uncle Alex to write a full report regarding the patterns of youth and their fashions. If his report does well, they may ask for an entire book."

"A writer?" Ophelia gave him a confused look. "I didn't think that was what you wanted to do with your life."

"Not ideally, no but… I don't viddy it as a career, simply until something better comes along." When the waiter came back to the table with their drinks, Ophelia politely thanked him and asked.

"Pardon sir, but where's the band tonight?" She motioned her head to the empty stage, where instruments stood like haunted houses. He meekly shrugged.

"Apologies ma'am, we received news earlier that they were involved in a car crash. Two of them in the hospital. I'm afraid no music tonight." The look on Alex's face struck the fear of bog into the waiter. "We are allowing people to improv on stage if they so like though. Kind of an amateur night. Perhaps someone will stand up and fill in."

The waiter hurried away. Ophelia took a sip of her drink, completely oblivious to the smile on Alex's face, at least until she lowered her glass. "Alex?"

He stood and reached out his hand for her. "What do ye govoreet, beloved? Shall we leave our mark on the lives of these vecks and devotchka's?"

She frowned, looking very nervous. "You mean…perform for them?"

"Indeed so."

"I…I…."He didn't wait for an answer; he reached out and took her hand dragging her out of her seat and across the room. Alex pulled Ophelia on stage and guided her to the occupied guitar stand.

"This is what you shilarny, is it not?" Putting the Guitar over her shaking body. "Just one warble for your Uncle Alex."

With a sigh, Ophelia gripped the guitar. Alex took his spot at the piano, waiting for her song request. "Ring of Fire…" He frowned, which she reacted to with a smile. "Don't give me that look Alexander… You're the one who wants to do this."

Alex, who didn't much care for Johnny Cash, reluctantly started playing the song his lover requested. Ophelia soon accompanied him on the guitar. After a moment or so, she started singing as well.

_Love Is A Burning Thing  
And It Makes A Fiery Ring  
Bound By Wild Desire  
I Fell Into A Ring Of Fire_

I Fell Into A Burning Ring Of Fire  
I Went Down, Down, Down  
And The Flames Went Higher

Ophelia turned slightly to look distinctly at Alex.

_And It Burns, Burns, Burns  
The Ring Of Fire  
The Ring Of Fire_

He smirked, noticing the way she moved with the music and swayed her hair. The crowd watched both of them; not because he was a known criminal and she was the daughter of Bill Sybalt—but because they were truly remarkable—even if the song they were playing wasn't jazz.

_The Taste Of Love Is Sweet  
When Hearts Like Ours Meet  
I Fell For You Like A Child  
Oh, But The Fire Went Wild_

I Fell Into A Burning Ring Of Fire  
I Went Down, Down, Down  
And The Flames Went Higher  
And It Burns, Burns, Burns  
The Ring Of Fire  
The Ring Of Fire

Ophelia looked and felt at home. She vaguely recalled singing this song when she was younger, when she dreamed of singing as a career. Before she was alone in this world and forced to work at a record store.

And now that she was no longer alone; no longer performing alone, she felt ready to dream once more.

_Love Is A Burning Thing  
And It Makes A Fiery Ring  
Bound By Wild Desire  
I Fell Into A Ring Of Fire_

I Fell Into A Burning Ring Of Fire  
I Went Down, Down, Down  
And The Flames Went Higher H

I Fell Into A Burning Ring Of Fire  
I Went Down, Down, Down  
And The Flames Went Higher….

_And It Burns, Burns, Burns  
The Ring Of Fire  
The Ring Of Fire…_

With an ending note on the piano, the song ended. It was immediately celebrated with clapping an whistling. Ophelia was shocked; even Alex couldn't believe the joy the crowd felt at their performance.

"Have one more in ye?" Alex asked smugly. Ophelia had to take a deep breath to keep herself composed.

"I think so…"

()

"Drinks from the couple over there." The waiter said, setting down two glasses of wine. Alex boredly glanced over to the door, where an elderly couple was getting ready to leave. Each of them nodding to him; Alex nodded back. This had been the fifth drink bought for them that night.

Ophelia picked up her glass and lifted it to them. "Alex, it's amazing, isn't it? They really liked us."

"They fancied you most I viddy." He said, returning to his date who was blushing like a schoolgirl. "Ye even have made a fan out yours truly."

"Please, your piano playing was so elegant, I was almost moved to tears. Your hands are so….wonderful, I feel like I could kiss them."

"Perhaps later, darling." Alex said with a devilish look. A man in suit interrupted the young couple. A greasy sort of gentlemen, he looked like the type of man lost in generations before him.

"Pardon me, but you two were incredible tonight. Are you two professionals?" Ophelia shook her head which raised his eyebrows. "Really? Well… Look, I'm the owner of this bar. Mr. Hackler, and you two really brought the crowd up tonight. Would you ever consider performing again? I'd pay you for it, naturally."

Alex watched as Ophelia beamed. Whether she had been nervous, unsure, or afraid to perform; her reaction now had proven she wanted to perform.

"We'll govoreet the messel." Alex said, waving his hand. The owner appeared insulted but bowed and backed away. Once he was gone, Alex leaned towards his girlfriend. "Well?"

"Well what?" Ophelia asked.

"Would it rock your gulliver to perform at your beloved place? To perform warble anywhere?"

Ophelia frowned. "It would but… I'm not sure if I could, Alex. It's all I've ever dreamed of but..."

She rubbed her hand over face, tapping her toe against the table. "Maybe it couldn't hurt to try? I'm just… so nervous about it not going the way I'd like it to."

Alex took her free hand into his. Ophelia's hand tensed around his. He thought about what he was about to ask her; trying to decide how to best put it. "Ophelia…"

"Yes Alex?"

"My new job… It'll pay a lot of cutter. Enough where… you wouldn't have to work anymore. You could concentrate on your music." Alex said, marveling at the wide eyes he enjoyed so much. "As long as you live with me, take care of my needs, I'll take care of yours."

Alex noticed the uncertainty in her eyes. "I'm not trying to keep you inside like your pe. All your Uncle Alex shilarny is for you to be happy, and if your warble is that…"

Ophelia practically jumped across the table to kiss him. Alex deepened the kiss and released her so she could speak. "I don't know how I could ever repay you."

"I could messel something." Alex suggested playfully. Ophelia smiled and kissed him again, wrapping both her arms around him.

It was a just reward for doing good.


	11. The Death of Innocence

Scratched Record-

Disclaimer- I do not own the storybook or movie, A Clockwork Orange or its characters. I also don't owe the play Hamlet, or it's characters and quotes.

Disclaimer- Forgot to mention it in the last chapter but I don't own the song Ring of Fire or it's lyrics. That of course belongs to the legendary Johnny Cash and wife June Carter.

Plot Summary- Alex fancies a girl who works at the record shop he goes to. However, the girl well pretty and music literate, is too pure and trusting. Will Alex take advantage of the young lady? Or will she be an exception to everything he has always stood for?

Extra Note: Hey guys! Can't thank everyone enough for the support and extremely kind words about this fanfic! It just keeps motivating me to make this story the best I can so thank you! However, I feel like I should warn everyone that it's about to get very dark (at least it will be true to A Clockwork Orange). Hopefully, you enjoy it none the less! Thanks

Chapter 11: The Death of Innocence

"Alex!" Alex emerged from Ophelia's father's old bedroom, now his home office. It had been nearly three months since he 'officially' moved in. His work usually allowed him to work contently during the afternoons and further his research in the evenings; all while Ophelia worked on her music.

"Yes, Oppie-feelie-ah?" Ophelia smiled meekly as she held up a necklace. She was wearing a form-fitting yellow dress with a black over coat. Apparently dressed and ready for Georgina's baby shower.

With an amused look, Alex walked over and took the necklace, draping it over her neck. "You look very horrorshow, love. Pity you look even more sladky without clothes."

"Ah, behave yourself." Ophelia warned, twisting around after the necklace clasped close. She stroked Alex's face and giggled. "We'll have none of that until I get home. After all, I have a performance I have to get to…. Will you be home when I get back?"

"Afraid not; this nochy belongs to my research. Do ye have some way to get domy?"

She nodded. "Pete kindly offered me a ride home. He said it was the least he could do for the lullaby." Ophelia glanced at the time and picked her guitar case off the floor. "I should be going if I'm going to make it in time. I'll have something warm ready for you when you get home…."

Alex leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Send Petey my regards… I love you."

"I love you too."

"Be safe." He added as Ophelia turned towards the door. Without looking back, his naïve little girlfriend responded back.

"I will."

()

Ophelia brushed a hand through her hair and sighed. She had no idea where she was at, or how to get to Georgina's baby shower. Some how she had lost her way after trying to read the confusing directions Alex had written in his less than legible handwriting.

Her stomach was beginning to turn too; a queasy feeling washing over her. She was beginning to wonder if she should just use a pay phone to have Alex help her get home. Or at the very least, try and contact Pete to come get her.

It would be dark soon—too dangerous to wonder these streets on her own. It was one thing to when she use to walk home from the record store to her apartment, it was another to travel a neighborhood she didn't know well.

In her musings, she bumped by someone's arm. "Sorry," She muttered.

"Well, well…Droogies, lookie here." Her blood ran cold when she heard the vaguely familiar voice. She could hardly forget it. The voice belonged to one of Alex's old droogs—the one who had intended to harm her so long ago.

Her fingers clutched around her guitar handle as Bully looked her up and down. "Prettier now than I messeled before."

Ophelia turned to run but was boxed in by a Len. Turning the other direction, Rick had sealed off that escape. She was cornered. No where to go. Nowhere to hide.

"What do you want?" She nervously asked, although the vulture look in their eyes told her enough. Last time they had been embarrassed and forsaken by Alex, all for her honor. This was their revenge.

Ophelia thought quickly. She thrusted her guitar case forward into Rick, managing to push him back far enough for her to make a run for it. She sped away as quickly as her feet could take her, screaming in order to catch someone's attentions.

The boys followed behind, almost catching her multiple times. When ever once reach for her dress, she managed to just barely escape their grasp. With every click of her heels, she felt more and more give, but pushed it all the more.

Just up the street, she saw a man with a wheelchair, walking with an attendant. With a sense of relief, Ophelia picked up her speed, pressing hard on the heels. "Help! Please!"

The heel snapped, sending Ophelia to the ground with a twisted ankle. She yelled in pain, but was still reaching for the man looking directly at her.

They signaled their approach with heavy laughter. Len grabbed Ophelia and forced her on her bad foot, holding her struggling body against his own. He waited for F. Alexander's order.

"How I would loved for him to watch—like he made me do to my wife." F. Alexander muttered, but nodded his head. Len, along with the others, started pulling her into the ally way.

"Sir please!" She managed to choke out through her tears. "Please!"

As Julian pulled F. Alexander away he murmured. "Sorry you got caught in the middle darling." He sounded less than sympathetic for poor little Ophelia.

She engulfed her into their crackling. No matter how much the blonde screamed and cried; it only motivated them. So, when it became too painful, she just stopped and retracted herself into a shell. Hoping they'd at the very least leave her alive.

And they did; but not without painting her red with her own blood. Not without shattering her until there was nothing left. They had done what her father hadn't been able to accomplish—they had broken her. Made her nothing more than pieces of a hopeless girl who was no longer new, pretty, or even sound.

Even if she could look Alex in the face again; she was certain he'd no longer love her.

()

The phone rang just as he was about to go out for his work. Alex, with annoyed strides, strolled over to the phone and picked it up. "De Large speaking."

"Alex? This is Georgina."

"Ah, has Petey left to deliver my devotchka home?" Alex inquired. He frowned when she didn't laugh at his nadsat. Simply because it was odd for her.

"No, that's why I was calling. Ophelia never showed up. I was calling to ask if maybe we could meet to hear the lullaby but… She was on the way?"

"She never arrived?" Alex asked, his blood turning cold. Georgina weakly answered so, and he thought over the options. She could have gotten lost but even then the shower was hours ago. She would have called him for assistance or at the very least, called them.

No, the more likely option was that someone attacked her. "Oh bog...God…"

"Pete! Ophelia's missing!" Georgina shouted. "Go look for her!"

Alex barely heard it. He hung up the phone and quickly ran out the door. Hoping to god he could find her before it was too late.

Or if it was, kill the bastards who had harmed her.

()

The guitar case was broken open, leaving the acoustic guitar broken across the feet of the streets. That had led him here. To the broken heel lying dead on the street. Pete felt the panic rise in his throat; Alex had said Ophelia was bringing her guitar.

"Ophelia?" Pete whispered. Half hoping she'd respond; half-hoping she wasn't anywhere near and this was simply a coincidence.

It wasn't; a pale, bloodied hand reached out of the ally way reflecting against the moonlight. It was all he could do to keep from screaming. "Help…" A weak voice cried.

The initial fear gone, Pete leaned down and touched the hand, bringing it further into the light until he could see Ophelia's bruised face, complete with dried blood and long, narrow, scabs and bloody shoulders, only covered by trenches of matted, filthy hair. Pete could have cried at the picture; beauty ripped from the girl, just like her innocence.

"Easy dear, nice and easy like." Pete removed the jacket from his body and wrapped it around her. She tried to fight against it at first, but after feeling the warmth it brought, she accepted it. It also emitted a soothing smell; a familiar one she couldn't quite remember at the moment.

"There's a good girl." Pete whispered, slowly trying to her up. When she started screaming and yelping she placed her back down. "Okay, forget that then… What if I carried you? Would you be okay with that?"

She shook her head slowly. "Don't…hurt…"

"No, no help." He grabbed her wrists as if to control her. Ophelia pulled and fought against him, screaming and shouting. After pulling her against him in an attempt to better grab her, she instead started sobbing in his shoulders. Her body struggling against it's own breath. Pete rocked her and held her like a child, whispering in her ear.

He didn't even realize Alex was behind him, looking over Ophelia with a mixture of horror and rage. His knuckles turned white as he dug his fingers into his own skin. Yet his eyes were watering as if to explode in tears any moment. Tears for his beloved who was sobbing at her own misfortune.

Pete turned over his shoulder at the low, choked sound. If Ophelia heard it; she made no indication of so, and simply continued crying. "Alex this is… Shit, we never did this much to a woman!"

"Wasn't our usual business, droog." Alex said through grinded teeth. "Someone meant to cause her vred…And now a group of vecks must snuff out for it. "

"Alex, wait you can't…!" Alex was already leaving, a dark look in his eyes that Pete hadn't seen since the day Alex beat him, Georgie, and Dim up for their mutiny. "What about her? You can't just leave her!"

"Get her to the hospital! Tell her I'll be at her side soon enough!"

"Alex…?" Ophelia whispered at long last, her fingers digging into Pete's shoulder as she looked up. "Is he leaving me?"

The broken hearted despair in her voice could have made him weep himself. "No dear… He said he'll be back…I just don't know when. Come on, let's get you to a hospital."

As Pete lifted the distracted girl into his arms and carried her towards his car, she remembered why Pete smelled so familiar. "You smell just like him…Like my Alex."

He smiled lightly after buckling her seatbelt. "I bet so."

And with that, he closed the door, walking over to his side.

So much for living a clean life. For by the time the night was through, he'd know about the murders of the men who had done this.

()

"My bog, what a shag!" Bully joked as he walked with his brethren. Len glared at him, silently informing him to shut his mouth.

"Shut your hole you gloopy bastard! We won't be safe until we're at that vecks place. We're lucky if Little Alex isn't searching for us now; screaming for our krovvy."

Len listened for Rick to throw his two cents in; instead, he was greeted with a loud _crack _noise. He turned just in time to see his friend's limp body fall to the ground, with Alex's famous leer greeting them.

"Why scream for what's right in front of you?" Alex said, before the smile dropped from his face. Bully, poor, misguided Bully…Stepped forward to try and tackle the object of their hatred. And all Len could do was watch him run to his grave.

Alex swiftly elbowed Bully in the face while knocking the sheath from his knife. In the second movement, Bully's throat was slashed. The bigger of the boys could feel his breath slipping torturously, but it never faded completely. This was Alex's intention.

"Ah-ah, Len…" Alex said just managing to catch his fleeing former droog and pointing the now tainted knife at his throat. Len could only keep his eyes on gasping Bully; sucking for air like a bass out of water. "I messeled a lot of you… Evil little bastard I always govoreet to myself. But gloopy? Never until I saw her tonight."

Alex forced Len to walk over to Bully, sneering down at him. "Did she cry for you both to stop, hmmm? Did my darling Ophelia beg you to let her go? Leave her out of it? Tell you want, since we all droogs here, I'll give you, gloopy, gloopy Bully, the chance you didn't give her… Beg for your life. If you can do it, I'll spare you."

Bully tried—he did with every fiber of his being. Len winced when he realized Alex had made the throat cut for this very reason; because Bully wouldn't be able to speak. Alex held a hand up to his ear; bidding him to speak. Bully held on to his leg, trying to find his speech but it was gone, now begging for mercy he knew wouldn't come.

Alex shook his head. "Ah pity… " Then Alex finished him, taking another slash at his throat. Len jumped to avoid Bully falling on his shoes.

Len watched as Alex turned his attention to him. Len backed up, but couldn't avoid the murderous look in the older ones eye. "Alex, come now… We were only doing what comes natural to us…Just malchicks, we were looking…."

Alex grabbed Len's wrist and swiped across it, digging his knife until Len's screams dulled to near silence. "You're a coward you are! Knowing you can't have a go at me, so you go for my devotchka instead! You've ruined an angel is what you've done. I may never hear her sladky warble again and it's your doing!"

"Coward? You're the one who betrayed your brothers for that damn nit in the first place!" Alex sliced his wrist again; this time deeper, but in the same place. Len's breaths were becoming deep and hollow. He tried to restrain the blood escaping from his wounds, all well watching Alex thoughtfully look at him.

"I viddied more from you Len…No, your not so gloopy as to challenge me are ye?" Alex realized, pulling Len's wrist away from his body. "Ye were always real quiet—but real smart, weren't you Len? Ye heard the tales of Alex De Large and his 'difficult time' and thought better, did ye not? Some veck encouraged ye to vred her. Made you confident enough to so…"

Len felt the blade dig into his skin once more. This time, it'd slash his artery he was sure. He'd bleed out in a matter of minutes. In the moment of desperation, Len screamed out. "God damn you Alex! No devotchka is worth it! I beseech you brother…droog…spare me!"

He wasn't going to tell him. Very well, Alex decided with little conscious or pity. He brought his knife down, cutting the artery like a sandwich. Then again against the chest, against across the face, he kept going until Len was as bloodied as his Ophelia was. Until Len was merely a screaming, horrified mess, cut him until the blood loss over came him, and he went into shock. It was only when he was shaking on the ground, that Alex dug his knife through his back and heart, piercing away what was left of his life.

With heavy, shallow breaths, Alex sheathed his knife and looked around him. Dead. Every last of them dead. So why did it feel like they had the last laugh?

With god wrenching pain, he remembered; because the damage was done. Ophelia would never be the same again. She'd never wear that beautiful wide smile, or approach his advances with tender innocence. Never again would she hop or frolic like a bunny.

His rabbit had been devoured, and all he could do was walk away from his vengeance, tears finally falling for the woman he loved.

He dealt with them before he reached the place he had healed what seemed like so many years ago; the hospital.


	12. The Breaking Point

Scratched Record-

Disclaimer- I do not own the storybook or movie, A Clockwork Orange or its characters. I also don't owe the play Hamlet, or it's characters and quotes.

Plot Summary- Alex fancies a girl who works at the record shop he goes to. However, the girl well pretty and music literate, is too pure and trusting. Will Alex take advantage of the young lady? Or will she be an exception to everything he has always stood for?

Chapter 12- Breaking Point

"Alex!" Pete said, jumping from his seat as Alex entered the lobby. His face dropped when he took in the sight of his old friend. Alex's clothing was splattered with blood—blood that surely wasn't his own. "Damn it Alex, couldn't you have cleaned up before you came?"

"Where is she?" Alex asked. Pete sighed and draped his coat around Alex—the same one he had used to conceal Ophelia. Almost as soon as she had arrived they had showered and dressed her; before taking their tests and bandaging her leg. After all, as terrible as what happened to Ophelia was; it wasn't terribly uncommon.

He followed Pete to the elevator; the minute the doors closed, his old friend started stripping his shirt. "Take your shirt off and clean the blood off your face, the last thing she needs to see is their blood on your face."

Alex, who had never much cared for being ordered, did as he was told. The jacket fell to the floor and Alex used his blood stained shirt to remove what was left of the blood. After handing Pete his shirt, his old friend gave him his and slipped his coat back over, stuffing Alex's shirt into it. "I'll walk you to her room, but I have to go destroy this. As far as the police are concerned, you were with me the whole time. The last thing she needs to think you're a cold-blooded killer, even if it's true."

"Save your shoom, Petey." Alex said sharply. Pete shook his head.

"No, Alex, I think you need to hear it." Pete shouted at Alex, perhaps sick of his leader attitude when Pete had long since left the gang for bigger and better things. "First of all, you should have made sure your Ophelia was safe before doing anything else! Second of all, you should have stopped to think what killing them would do to her…"

"Did thee not see how they vred her?" Alex glared down his old friend—no anger in his eyes. Only defense. "They had to be snuffed…they grazzy my devotchka to oobivat me and they had to be snuffed!"

"We did the same things Alex!" Pete yelled. The elevator door open and a nurse shot them both a curious look. Clearing his throat, Pete and Alex left the elevator, and the nurse stepped into it. After the doors closed, Pete continued in a quieter voice. "How many did we harm in such a way? Could you even count them? What they did was sick but, death? Are they any worse than we?"

It was true. In a way, this was some sort of karma against him for all the women he hurt, raped, and maimed. How were they any different then the young woman his world now revolved around?

Simple. They were not Ophelia. "Our droogies never went so far… They didn't just force the old in-out, in-out on her. They wanted destroy her."

Pete stopped in front of a door. "Well, they did a pretty good job of it…This is her room. I should go home to Georgina. Remember, Ophelia doesn't need to know what happened…She's not well."

The warning was failing in its words. Alex couldn't have possibly imagined how bad the situation was.

()

Ophelia was sitting in the hospital chair pointed towards the window, her bandaged foot resting on the windowsill. He was relieved to see her blonde hair, draping down the back of the chair, was again clean as it was before.

"Oppie-feelie-ah…" He said; she didn't turn to look at him. With a frown, he moved to her side, getting down to eye-level with her blank, lifeless stare. "Darling…"

His hand went over hers and suddenly her eyes casted down to the hand and them to his face. "Alex?"

Her face was still edged with the bruises—all incredibly noticeable against her China doll skin. Yet, he smiled carefully. "How is Uncle Alex's malenky devotchka?" Ophelia grimaced. Cursing, he realized Len, Bully, and Rick all spoke nadsat—the language she use to adore like poetry now sounded bitter in her ears. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," She softly replied. "The doctors say no long lasting damage—they say I can leave tomorrow once the tests come through….They want me to…go to therapy."

A tear slipped down his face and Alex sighed. He wiped it with his thumb. "Whatever it takes. You'll make it through, sister."

Something changed very suddenly. The sadness grew into something bigger—anger. The same sort of look he had when he ended the lives of his former droogs. It was an intensity of rage he didn't think the girl was capable of feeling. "Suppose I do make it through this. How long before some other misfortune hits me, hmm? How long before someone else uses me for one thing or another. Company? Obsession? Revenge? What does it matter?"

She grabbed on to his shoulder in order, her nails digging into his skin. Ophelia jerked him forward, closer to her. He might have enjoyed the roughness had Ophelia's face not been contorted in such pain and inner agony. " I can hear my father tell me…'I told you the world was awful! I told you it was for your own good!' I hate him. I hate this, and I hate this god forsaken world!"

Alex pulled himself away from her grip and backed away. A horrified look in his eyes. It was one thing him to think and say such things; he was naturally evil. But it suited Ophelia like a misfitting shoe. It made him sick to see it because it felt like he was looking at a different person all together.

The anger vaporized back to sadness as more tears fell down her face. "You don't want me anymore do you? Now that they've…they…."

As she dissolved into tears; once again she became the girl he loved. He held her close as she cried once again—did so until she was numb and still. Alex lifted her into his arms and took her over to the bed, carefully laying her out as to not bother her ankle. After which, he went to rest in the chair, falling in and out of sleep.

Empathy overcame him once more; he now understood why that F. Alexander had tried to kill him those years ago.

()

"Chin up, darling, you need to get out of the room." Alex insisted. Ophelia glanced up; she'd be released in the afternoon. It was still early morning. She ached, she was depressed, and still felt sick enough to throw up.

"I don't feel well…"

"It'll make you feel better." He said, putting his had carefully on her waist. She flinched at first but smiled at his touch. "I want to show you something real horror—"

He trailed off as he realized his nadsat was slipping into his voice. "Alex, don't…don't do that. It hurts to hear it but… it hurts more to have everything changed. I just want everything back to normal."

Getting up to get her crutches, Alex looked over his shoulder. "Very well… you'll viddy it real horrorshow."

They walked to the recreational room—which was surprisingly full for early in the morning. There were sick children building blocks, aging men playing chess, women, just like his Ophelia, wounded and reading magazines in order to hide their shame. The couple walked past all these sorts of people until they reached the piano. Ophelia gave Alex a curious look.

"I messel ye might find peace in warble." He explained. Alex helped her sit at it before taking the seat next to her.

"It's very sweet but…"

"Ye didn't filly me the complete lullaby." He whispered. Ophelia sighed, running her hands through her hair. After pondering it for a moment, she placed her hand on the keys and quietly played the piano.

It wasn't the lullaby—it was too crooked, too dark to be the lullaby. Though it made a song, a pretty one at that, it was heartbreakingly depressing.

He started playing along, encouraging something happier. Eventually Ophelia caught on, laughing as she transitioned into a happy paced song. Her eyes brightened as hands clashed, music played, and smiles were once again brought back from their dark place.

Once the song finished, she hung on to him, burying her laughter into his shoulder. "I've forgotten how good you've gotten… it seems like just yesterday I was teaching you how to play and now… you're much better than me."

"See? The world is not so grahzny… not while there's always warble in it."

"Ms. Sybalt? There you are." The doctor approached. They both turned towards the doctor, a tall blonde woman with thick-rimmed glasses. While she seemed pleased to see Ophelia happy, there was a very serious look behind those glasses. "Could I perhaps speak to you privately for a moment?"

Alex frowned immediately, giving Ophelia a concerned look. Her humor had faded, replaced with a serious look. She nodded and reached down for her crutches before turning back to Alex. "I'll meet you back at the room."

He nodded and watched as Ophelia limped after the doctor. Her tense shoulders barely allowed any movement for the crutches, but she managed. Alex had to remind himself that she'd make it; she'd be okay.

He wouldn't allow the one thing he cared about in this world to die.

()

"Pregnant? That's…" Ophelia trailed off suddenly. Was it impossible? She and Alex made love several times a week since their first time. Most of the time protected—by the pill usually. She had been taking them already to help with menstrual related problems, and found it convenient since Alex, frustratingly didn't consider protection a high priority. No doubt from his days as a gang member. But the pill wasn't always a 100% safe—not to mention the times she might have forgotten. It would explain why she felt so sick before the rape. "For how long?"

Dr. Richards took the seat at the desk across from her. "Not far along at all, about a month, more or less. According to documentation, last night was the only time you had forced sexual intercourse so—unless you decided not to come to the hospital the previous times, I'm assuming you were a willing participant with the father? Maybe even know him?"

"I've only been with one man. My boyfriend, Alex." Ophelia said sharply. She didn't know which to be more shocked at; how many women were raped, how many had so much sex that they wouldn't know their baby's father, or how many children appeared to be conceived out of those instances?

Actually, none of the above. She was most shocked that she had become an instance. The doctor nodded. "Good, I get a lot of girls these day who couldn't even remember having sex—too high on those drugs and such. In any case, you've been placed under a great deal of stress in the last 24 hours. Your attack was one of the most brutal I've ever seen and… Honestly, I'm beyond shocked that you didn't miscarry."

Ophelia placed a pale hand on her stomach. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to be a mother; but was somehow grateful that she hadn't lost the baby. "And unfortunately, stress like this can lead to a lot of problems. You're going through a traumatic time—not just physically, but mentally, and it could lead to high blood pressure, premature labor or I fear, you may lose your child. And I wish I could say you were out of the woods but… until you get past what happened, you'll be under a dangerous level of stress."

"What—what should I do then?" Ophelia murmured, not bothering to point out that this was stressing her out even further. The doctor sighed and shrugged.

"For now, all we can do is keep an eye on you. Have you take the protocols for both the rape and the pregnancy. See therapy, take your prenatal pills, and relax… Although…" Dr. Richards cleared her throat, taking her glasses off and playing with them. "I usually don't recommend it in instances where the mother was willing with the father, but considering the circumstances—it might be dangerous to your health as well, to continue the pregnancy. You might want to talk with the father about perhaps having an abortion."

Ophelia closed her eyes—it was true, the baby would be the last thing she needed in her life. She and Alex weren't even married—and while Alex had shone interest in a future with her (even after the rape itself), men like him usually didn't stick around for the whole diapers thing.

They had talked of it one day. He had actually taken to being a father quite well; maybe this news would make him happy. But she had always figured it'd be years in the future, when they were well adjusted adults—no more baggage, no more worries, just two adults married, happy, and living in a house.

She wasn't sure if she could handle so much change—but the doctor was right, Alex needed to know and they needed to talk it out.

()

"Did…Did you still want to hear the lullaby?" Ophelia asked as she watched Alex lay out some street clothes for her. She should have seen him differently now; knowing his past and knowing he had done to other women what his former droogs had done to her. Yet when he was so—attentive, so wonderful to her—it was difficult to see him as anything but her lover.

He looked up with interest. "Why not wait until we're at domy? Where your own piano keys lay and we can fancy ourselves with gromky warble."

"Well, I wrote words to go with it…So Pete and Georgina could sing them." She explained, her hands picking up the white top. "I would…like it very much for you to hear it."

With a sigh, he decided it was best to give into her wishes. He sat down on the bed, wearing a friendly smile. Alex couldn't recall the last time he had faked a smile for so long. "Alright, I'll slooshy it. Go on then."

Ophelia took a deep breath, her nails clutching into the top. After a moment or so, she stammered the words out.

_Sweet child, sleep, no harm will come tonight._

_Just know, my love, everything is fine._

_No one in this world could love you more._

_My little one—the one I'd die for._

_Mother and father, how blessed we be…_

He raised an eyebrow when she pointed to herself and then him.

_To hear it from you; my little baby. _

_My husband did cry, when he learned…_

_That he would be…your loving father._

It took the extra emphasis on that last word and her hand motion for him to realize what she meant. His mouth dropped slightly open, his eyes almost as wide as hers usually were.

Ophelia looked down to her hands. "What….What do you think?"

Under usual circumstance, he might of liked it quite a bit. A symbol for how hard to he had worked to become a member of society—a man in the eyes of the world. However, he couldn't help but wonder if this discovery was bad for Ophelia. If it was all too much for the small blonde girl.

She didn't seem nervous about the news itself; just his reaction. "Is this…something you fancy?"

Ophelia barely shrugged. "I was hoping to be a little older—now certainly was a good time but… Alex, the doctor said the stress itself may kill the baby—she even said I should consider…terminating it."

"I…I can't though. It doesn't matter how bad things seem; how terrible I've found this world to be. I can't bare the thought of losing it. I want the baby…and I want you to want it. Both the baby and me…"

"Are you bezoomny, Oppie-feelie-ah?" He said in a low voice, while shaking his head. "Can you not viddied it? I couldn't live with another cheena, couldn't bare the thought of it. Why, you, my dear sister, have given me everything I messeled I'd never get in this lifetime. "

He laughed, which made her smile. "If I didn't gooly out when I first met you—you oblivious malenky rabbit—if I truly wasn't a new veck. If I surely did not want to spend my jeezny with ye… I would have left a long time ago."

"I love ye too much Oppie-feelie-ah…." Alex said at last, taking her hand. "And we shall make it through together. Ye, yours truly, and the malchick or devotchka you're carrying."

Ophelia squeezed his hand; thankful she didn't start crying again. Even if they were happy tears—she had cried enough to last a lifetime last night. Instead, they share a knowing look. She felt for the first time that day that everything would be fine. Even if the road was long, bumpy, and a bit insane; she felt better knowing Alex would be there and that he still loved her after what his former droogs did to her.

In eight months, she would have something not even her father could give her; a complete, and perfect family.


	13. Distraction

Scratched Record-

Disclaimer- I do not own the storybook or movie, A Clockwork Orange or its characters. I also don't owe the play Hamlet, or it's characters and quotes.

Plot Summary- Alex fancies a girl who works at the record shop he goes to. However, the girl well pretty and music literate, is too pure and trusting. Will Alex take advantage of the young lady? Or will she be an exception to everything he has always stood for?

Chapter 13: Distraction

Alex was leaning against the wall while working late one night—almost two weeks after his world was turned upside down. It was the first time he had dared to leave Ophelia alone after the rape, and found it even more stressful to know she was alone, than he was when she was around.

The girl was practically a mess. She would keep him up late a night with her screaming and tossing; which only got worse if he made any attempt to comfort her. During the days, she was a motionless zombie, either playing piano or napping on the couch. He engaged her small talk and ramblings, occasionally plans about their new child. But unlike before, when she had been meek and unwilling to cause conflict—Alex now always found himself on the edge of danger.

"We'll need your office for the baby." Ophelia said matter-of-factly earlier that day. Alex, promptly told her, he needed the office to finish writing the book that would bring in the income for the small family. A gentle reminder had set off his usually understanding girlfriend. "Where the bloody hell do you think we should put the baby, then? Out in the streets? In the living room? That's a ally boys mentality for you, isn't it?"

Alex managed to mend the situation by promising her he'd have the office cleared out within three months. A close schedule, but enough time for him to complete his book at least. It did nothing to sooth the beast; she instead grumbled as she went back to playing music. He wasn't sure whether to blame the hormones or the recent events. He didn't even realize until later that it was simultaneously the first time Ophelia stood her ground to him about anything, as well as being the first time he had caved to another human being.

Unconditional love—there was so much Pete left out about it.

A few girls, stepping out from a nearby club walked past him. Young things, perhaps younger than Ophelia. He smiled and nodded to them; earning him a giggle from each of them. A younger version of himself would have given chase—he was in fact amazed by how easy it was to remember his girlfriend, waiting for him at home, despite her attitude changes.

As he watched (surely no harm in doing that) he began to understand exactly why it was easy to let them walk away. It wouldn't much matter if they were prettier, less temperamental, and less broken than Ophelia. Eventually, a small part of her former self would return and that was enough for Alex to keep pushing through. He had given up so much for her; killed for her even. And it was all because he loved her; worshiped her even.

()

He closed the door quietly, hoping he wouldn't wake her. Not that it really mattered—he heard the sounds of Opera playing from the stereo and knew she was up. "Oppie-feelie-ah?"

"Kitchen." She called out. He wondered if he should have gone to check on her, or simply retired for the evening and wait for her to join him. Alex decided it wasn't healthy for her or the baby to be up so late, particularly after so many sleepless nights. He entered the kitchen, trying to find a way to convince her to bed.

"It's deep in the nochy love… don't ye messel it's best to retire?" She was sitting at the table, hunched over a few different books (most of them music related, some of them not) with a pencil in hand, hanging over a notebook. Alex raised his eyebrow, as he took in the sight. "What's this, then?"

She looked up at him, a small smile gracing her lips. Just like that, all the annoyance he had for earlier had disappeared. "Here, look and tell me what you think."

Alex curiously accepted the notepad she slid over to him. It was a list divided into two sections- one marked boys, the other marked girls. So his little Ophelia was thinking of baby names. "I was looking up names of composers and such… Beethoven and Mozart made the list but… I tried to find names that better suited a child."

He read over the list carefully—for boys names, Ophelia had played with his own, _Alexander or A.J._ she had written. She also had names like _Julius, Giovanni, Frederic, Johan,_ and_ Emile_. For girls, the list was much shorter with names like _Maria, Clara, Elisabeth, Anna,_ and_ Helene. _He couldn't help but notice _William_ was crossed off the list.

"See any names you like?"

Alex shrugged. "I fancy Clara or Helene for a devotchka well enough—Not a malchicks name I don't fancy…Ye forgot Hamlet." She laughed at his joke.

"Why not just add Shakespeare?" Ophelia took the notepad back. "Honestly, I'd rather not carry on my parents traditions… What about your parents names?"

"I don't viddy you liking the eemyas Neal or Bobbie."

"No, guess not…Well, I guess we have awhile to decide yet." Ophelia said, closing the books. A moment later, she sighed, rubbing her tired eyes. "Alex…I'm sorry for earlier. I never blow up like that it's just…"

He leaned over to put a finger over her lips to quiet her. "You've been through a lot darling—a blow up here and there is acceptable."

"No," She pulled his hand away but nuzzled it. "It's not—you've been wonderful, and I shouldn't take things out on you. I just don't know what we're going to do. We need space for the baby, space for our things, you need your space to work, I need space for music and you need to get back to work. I really need sleep but… I don't want to take the medication to help it either."

Alex didn't know she hadn't been taking her anti-anxiety medicine. "Why not?"

She tapped her fingers on the counter. "I'm afraid if it doesn't help the nightmares…all it will do is keep me from waking up."

He took her hand, helping her to stand. Ophelia reached for her crutches but Alex surprised her by taking her into his arms and carrying her. She laughed again—every time was music to his ears.

Alex sat carefully on the bed and held her close to him, allowing his hands to roam carefully over her, gauging her reactions to fit his actions. He managed to restrain himself surprisingly well once again; two weeks without sex was the longest he had gone without it, and he didn't see an end in sight to his abstinence.

Lots of cold showers, unpleasant thinking, and self-punishment.

"Careful," She half-warned, half- pleaded when he had gotten a little too low. Cursing himself for slipping he brought his hand back up.

"Appypolly loggy, Oppie-feelie-ah. I've been declaring drats against my shilarnys as of late." Alex freely admitted. Ophelia looked up at him with concerned eyes and bit her lip.

"Will it…be a problem?"

"Nothing ye need worry your gulliver about." He insisted almost immediately; vaguely recalling how tempted he had been by the girls earlier. Along with everything else, Ophelia didn't need to know about them. "In fact… Your Uncle Alex will handle the issues of space, the baby's room and anything else he can take on. Ye…focus on Oppie-feelie-ah and the babe."

She yawned and snuggled into him; forcing one arm to remain under her and the other to bury itself into her hair for comfort. Her leg with the bad ankle laid sprawled across the bed, but her other leg lay between his own two. Causing a different kind of discomfort he wouldn't be able to relieve.

"I love you, Alex." It was the first time she had said it since the incident. With his hand brushing through her hair, Alex couldn't bare to be annoyed at her for her current position.

"I love you too."

()

Alex had kept his word on taking care of things over the next month. He started searching for houses, ones with fantastic security and far enough from the city where his kind wouldn't be such a problem but close enough to be near his job and city.

Ophelia showed improvement; she was able to sleep most nights. And while she saw the therapist the only good that seemed to do was to push Ophelia to talk to Alex about the events.

"The thing that bothers me most…well, almost more than anything else—was the fact that someone saw what was happening. An old man and his attendant." Ophelia explained one night while Alex held her—her stomach now had a small but visible bump. Her small frame would make it difficult to hide any sort of signs of pregnancy. "I yelled for him to help but…he just stood there and then… left."

"Some people messel it's better to stay out of certain sloochat." He soothed more to himself than her. How many people had watched his doings from afar but too afraid of him to help? Even with that knowledge in mind, he hated the fact that someone had allowed what had happened to her happen without even a second thought.

"I just—It just scares me. What if something ever happened to our child and no one stopped to help? I couldn't…couldn't fathom it."

He wanted with all his heart to say no harm would ever come to a specimen of his. His fear was more that if he were to have a son it would be too much like him. Evil, and wretched to his parents as Alex had been to his. He could handle such a boy; he wasn't sure if Ophelia could. And if he had a daughter, he wouldn't know how to protect her of this world. He would have believed his reputation would protect them all; but it hadn't saved Ophelia. Who's to say a child of his wouldn't fall to the fate of this day and age?

"You never had to." He answered anyway, knowing that as long as it was in his grasp, he wouldn't allow either situation to happen.

Then, as fate would have it, that very month, Georgina had her baby. A beautiful baby boy, Pete practically sobbed on the phone. The boy was given the name George Peter.

"Alex, Ophelia…" Georgina smiled when they went to visit days after. Ophelia smiled politely, wrapping the coat around her own pregnant belly. She and Alex, who had refrained from announcing their own impending child, had decided that it was best to allow Pete and Georgina this day of happiness. Alex also had a guilty little voice telling him that tradition did dictate his parents should know first; which would be their next visit.

The baby was wrapped in an over-size blue blanket as he was rocked back and forth. Like most baby tended to be, he was squishy and tired looking, yet surprisingly not making a sound. Little George looked small, even for a newborn, leading Alex to believe perhaps his size wouldn't be all that different from his fathers. "Quite the malchick."

"He is." Ophelia agreed, then continued with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry you never heard the lullaby."

Georgina shook her head. "Don't apologize, I'm just happy your alive."

"You know, we could give it a listen now." Pete suggested. Ophelia looked unsure and a bit sad, Alex patted her back gently.

"Well, I could play it on the piano, but I'm not sure if you'd be ready to move yet. Perhaps…"

"What about guitar? Pete said that was the instrument you were going to play at the baby shower." Georgina asked.

Then she tensed; Alex tried to force Ophelia calm by pressing his lip against her cheek. With all the other things in their life, Ophelia barely made room to practice piano music—let alone, to think of purchasing a new guitar since the old one was destroyed. Pete, remembering how the guitar had led him to her, butted in. "She didn't bring it, love. Maybe another time."

Georgina took the hint, and left it all alone. After an awkward moment or so, she made a suggestion. "Would either of you like to hold him?"

"You…you'd let us hold your baby?" Ophelia asked unsure. Pete laughed and walked over, picking up his son into his arms.

"It's not as frightening as it looks." He assured her. After some careful transitioning, baby George was resting in Ophelia's arms, still quite content. Alex peered over her shoulder, occasionally looking back to his girlfriend's face.

It was odd to him. While Ophelia was quiet and submissive by nature, until now she always seemed to have some sort of inner turmoil. It was wonderful to see some peace in her eyes as she gently rocked George.

After a few minutes, Ophelia handed the baby carefully to Alex. He himself was left irrelatively moved by the child. It did make him a little excited for his own child, but this baby didn't bring him much inner peace—nor did he love it unconditionally.

He did realize it wouldn't be long before he had his own son or daughter. And inside, he felt joyous.

Alex knew he would no longer have to envy Pete's life.

()

"Enjoying your food, Alex? Ophelia?" Mrs. De Large asked. Ophelia ate her food as if afraid she'd never eat again. Alex smiled as he pushed his food around. His mind was too preoccupied with the news rattling in his head to enjoy the food on his plate.

"Horrorshow indeed, Em."

"Extraordinary, Mrs. De Large, really…" Ophelia said politely. With a warm smile, Alex's mother picked up she and her husband's plates. They seemed to enjoy Ophelia quite a bit now that she had encouraged their son to seek a more acceptable way of life and move out of the home. Their lives were less stressful because of tit so really; the girl was welcomed with open arms. "

After a few more minutes, Alex finally handed his plate to his mother, who had collected Ophelia's empty plate. "Before dessert, Em, sit down. Oppie-feelie-ah and I have some news."

"What's this, then?" Mr. De Large wondered. Mrs. De Large took the seat by his side, knowing better than to disobey her son. It would be a rare family occasion—his mother had always longed for a perfect child and failing that, had hoped to try and have a perfect grandchild. It would give them joy.

But fear too—fear they would fail again and have two psychopaths in the family. "Well um, Alex and I haven't been together as long as you might have hoped we'd be before hearing this; in fact, I think we ourselves were hoping to be married and settled before it but… I found out that I'm pregnant."

The De Large parents remained still for a moment. It was Mrs. De Large who dared to ask. "Really?"

Alex nodded, patting Ophelia's hand. "Guess ye shall be called Grannie and Pop, eh?"

"Really?" His father repeated, earning him a glare from Alex. He cleared his throat and spoke carefully. "I'm sorry son, just… happy I guess….Never thought you'd see this day though."

"Will you…two be getting married?" His mother dared to ask. Ophelia eloped her fingers with Alex's, unsure of how to respond. Alex hadn't shown any desire to get married. Frankly, Ophelia didn't see why he should. She wasn't anything special to begin with; now, she felt more and more like a bother to him.

The subject was dropped as if it was never brought up. But in Ophelia's mind, she could only wonder if Alex was truly going to stick around for her. After all, a baby didn't keep people together. Her own mother had proven that.

She hadn't had a family before; but now suddenly wanted one, particularly this family more than ever.


	14. Certifiable

Scratched Record-

Disclaimer- I do not own the storybook or movie, A Clockwork Orange or its characters. I also don't owe the play Hamlet, or it's characters and quotes.

Plot Summary- Alex fancies a girl who works at the record shop he goes to. However, the girl well pretty and music literate, is too pure and trusting. Will Alex take advantage of the young lady? Or will she be an exception to everything he has always stood for?

Chapter 14: Certifiable.

"Something troubling ye, sister?"

The moonlight reflected down the path they had walked so many times before. Ophelia when she use to walk home from work; Alex when he use to travel out with the gangs. It happened to be their way home from his parents place.

"Nothing," Ophelia lied, gently squeezing Alex's arm. "Just thinking…if we move from the city, we'll have to get a car. We hadn't the money for it."

"So we'll find it." Alex shrugged, knowing full well the move and a mode of transportation was the last thing on her mind. It was always there but until now, it hadn't been a real problem. Something else was bugging the young woman. "Plenty of cutter to obtained! As assured, you're Uncle Alex can handle it…But he can't take care of what his Oppie-feelie-ah will govoreet to him."

Ophelia, feeling tired, leaned against the building. Alex stopped and crossed his arms, willing her to speak her mind. "We're doing it all wrong. Normal people get married, move into a house and then have children. We're not even in the house and… not even married."

He raised an eyebrow. Marriage? Interesting idea. Alex supposed in the usual context, they were breaking the usual standards—fitting, they were far from usual people.

It would be no white wedding. It would be no grand wedding either. They had no real friends other than Pete and Georgina, and with all the other things they needed, they wouldn't be able to afford a big celebration.

Yet he could understand her desire for a promise. After all, much like him, everyone had left her on her own at some point in her short life. There was a fear that he would do the same. Perhaps they'd always be that fear; even if he wouldn't think of it.

He was too deep now. He had fallen in love with her and now that they had a child coming; they'd always have a certain amount of love for one another.

"Well, then…I viddy it will be the easiest thing we'll itty." Alex said with a smirk. Ophelia narrowed her eyes in confusion. "Let's get married; tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? But…" Ophelia was smiling despite the question. Alex simply waved it off.

"What droogs do we have to proclaim our love in front of?" Alex took her hand into his. Ophelia leaned her body into his and held him close with her free hand. "You're all I have Ophelia… And you're all I ever want." He continued, dropping the nadsat for a moment. Sometimes he felt himself losing it as if it faded to his natural voice. He couldn't help but wonder if eventually it would be gone all together.

Ophelia, feeling so happy she could melt, reached up to kiss his lips.

"Tomorrow it is then…"

()

When Ophelia got up the next morning, Alex was nowhere in sight. Odd considering they had agreed to get married early in the morning. "Alex?"

She noticed a pile of clothing sitting on the dresser with a note attached. The note explained that he had taken liberty of buying her a new dress seeing as how most of her wouldn't fit. It also went on to say that Pete would be picking her up at around eleven and instructed her to be ready.

Ophelia was shocked; it was rather romantic of him. She picked up the dress and shook it out. Of course it was white, the actual dress itself being short and rather plain looking, but with it came an overcoat with star-shaped buttons and lace ascot. It was more conservative than he usually preferred her to dress; but the thought itself was over-whelming enough to drive her to tears.

The bride to be showered, dressed herself, applied make-up, and tried to do something nice with her hair. By the time a buzzer rang, signaling that someone was ringing the bell to their apartment, she had given up and simply styled her hair away from her face.

Pete was waiting in front of the building when Ophelia. He smiled and handed her a bouquet of white roses. "Alex wanted me to give you these. Are you ready?"

Ophelia nodded and Pete escorted her to his car. "How's Georgina and the baby?"

"Just took them home before coming here. Don't want them to be alone for too long so I'm afraid I won't be staying to see you and Alex married."

"That's alright, I'm grateful you even took the time to do this." Once they were the seats, Pete drove off. Ophelia felt her stomach kern with nervousness. Or perhaps the baby was just excited that soon his or her parents would united in holy matrimony. She was amused by the idea that a fetus could even get excited. "I never did thank you for all you've done for me, Pete. I don't know if I ever could."

Pete shook his head. "Nothing of it. You see, although we've had our rough patches and years apart, I sort of see Alex like a real brother. I can tell you make him happy; more than that, you make him….sane. At peace even. Society owes you thanks, for you've done what we all thought was impossible; you've made Alex De Large into a good person."

Ophelia smiled; her hands clutching onto the bouquet. It was funny to hear Pete say it because Alex did the same for her in a way. They shared a unique bond because they were entering human society together, and more importantly, they kept each sane. Alex kept Ophelia from becoming a numb little creature, and she kept him from becoming the destructive, unfeeling, monster he was before.

"I just realized Pete…Since you and Alex were 'droogs', you use to speak nadsat, didn't you?"

"Right I did, what of it?"

Ophelia use to love the language so much before the incident. Hearing Alex speak it was like hearing poetry read out loud. After everything occurred, the language lost a lot of its beauty, but Alex's constant use of it had ended that one particular fear. Now she wondered if it was the language she loved so much, or if it was the man speaking of it. "Could you speak a little of it? I'm…curious to what it was like."

Pete tilted his head to think for a moment, before finally deciding on a phrase. "My dear droog Alex, make him a horrorshow of a zheena, eh sister?" Ophelia laughed just as he stopped the car. Pete's voice reflected the language well but Alex defiantly put a pleasing spin on it. "Want me to walk with you inside?"

"No, I'll be fine. You should go home to George and Georgina." Ophelia opened the door and stepped out of the car. She gave Pete a grateful smile. "Thank you again; for everything."

"Not a problem…Good luck and… may this bring you both unending happiness."

With a final thanks, Ophelia closed the door and turned back to the courthouse. She walked up the steps, holding the bouquet as if she was about to go down the aisle. When she entered inside, Ophelia was concerned when she didn't see Alex. She wasn't sure where to go or what was expected of her.

A familiar voice scared the nervousness away. "Little Ophelia? I'm not mistaken, am I? It is you, yes?"

Ophelia turned suddenly. P.R. Deltoid was looking down upon her, as if she was still a young child.

She recall various times in her life when her father was accused of one thing or another, they would send a social worker out to question her or simply make sure Ophelia grew up to be a well-adjusted child. P.R. Deltoid became that social worker shortly after her thirteenth birthday. She hadn't seen him though since her father's death.

"_Terrible, terrible thing to happen. Not only to him, but to you as well—such a sweet thing you've been."_ Deltoid had said that day when he met Ophelia for tea almost two months after the incident. _"But sometimes such is life—a boy I knew once went a similar way, yes. Have I ever told you of…"_And for the hundredth and last time, Deltoid told Ophelia about the infamously problematic charge he had who ended up in prison. She listened to every one so not to be rude, but in all honesty, it was difficult to care.

So needless to say; this meeting brought some rather mixed emotions. Nonetheless, Ophelia embraced the only person alive who ever really knew her. "Mr. Deltoid, what are you doing here?"

"Court work, I'm afraid. Called in as an expert witness against one of my charges yes. Outlook not in his favor I shall say. And what of you, young lady, what brings you to the courthouse this fine day?"

"Well, um….actually, I'm getting married today." Deltoid then noticed the small bump that was visible even beneath the dress and overcoat. Ophelia blushed with embarrassment. "It's not because of that….my fiancée and I simply didn't want to make a big deal out of it."

Deltoid made an 'ah' sound and nodded. "Well, I suppose congratulations is in order… Who is the lucky man?"

"There you are, Oppie-feelie-ah!" Ophelia looked over her shoulder in time to see Alex stop. Confused, she looked back to Deltoid who appeared just as shocked as the other. Alex slowly continued towards her, wrapping an arm around Ophelia. "Well, hello sir. Good day, is it not?"

"Well, well, Alexander De Large. Yes, I suppose it is." Deltoid said with a frown. Ophelia then realized with a gasp the reason both men were so surprised. Alex must have also formerly been a charge of Deltoid—perhaps even the troublemaker he was always complaining about.

Judging by the look on Deltoid's face, it was a safe bet. His most well behaved ward with his most troublesome one, it was an odd twist of fate.

"So, this is your fiancée, Ophelia?" Deltoid said coldly, looking directly at Alex. "Am I to assume he is the child's father?"

"Indeed I am." Alex cut it very defensively. Ophelia paled; knowing full well what Deltoid was thinking. A one nightstand or perhaps rape turned into a lifetime commitment; anything else was just coincidence.

"As I've said sir—this marriage would be taking place with or without baby. I simply have no one to stand up for me at a big wedding." Ophelia assured, not quite understanding why she would need his approval.

Deltoid nodded. "Right, right, just an odd coincidence, quite kismet yes?" He cleared his throat. "Well, I was just about to leave, but perhaps since I could stay and play witness, yes? Just a mutual friend seeing his wards married?"

"By all means sir, we'd be honored." Alex said in a daring voice, as if to challenge him to try and stop the wedding. Ophelia, once again feeling very sick, allowed herself to be led by Alex. Deltoid followed behind, feeling very powerless and certain no matter what he did, Ophelia would be signing her soul to the devil known as Alex.

There was no music as they walked into the courtroom. Simply Ophelia holding her bouquet and Alex with his proper coat and frilly ascot with a rose pinned to his coat. Deltoid took his seat in the front row of the courtroom as the Judge sat high above them. The bailiff spoke once both Alex and Ophelia were positioned.

"The court now acknowledges the intent to marry of Alexander John De Large and Ophelia Claire Sybalt." The judge gave the bailiff an odd look when he heard both names. He looked back to the couple and began slowly.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, to join Alexander and Ophelia in holy matrimony, before god, the law, and all the creatures within. If there is anyone who knows of a reason these two shall not be wed speak now or forever hold your peace."

Alex and Ophelia looked back to Mr. Deltoid. He gave Ophelia a very serious almost pleading look. She let her shoulders rise and fall; a weak shrug to indicate her mind was made up. With a sigh, Deltoid shook his head.

The couple turned back to the judge. "Very well; in that case, Alexander, do you promise to take Ophelia to have and to hold? Through sickness and health? To care and love her until death do you part?"

"I do, your honor." Alex spoke loud and clearly.

"And do you, Ophelia, promise to take Alexander to have and to hold? Through sickness and health? To care and love him until death do you part?"

In a weaker voice, she responded. "I do…your honor."

"Do you have ring to symbolize this union?" Alex nodded and reached into his pocket, producing two rings. Ophelia was shocked when he opened her hand and placed his ring in it.

He then took her other hand and slipped the gold band over her finger. "Repeat me, Alexander- With this ring, I do thee wed."

"With this ring, I do thee wed." Alex stated.

Ophelia took the ring in her palm and held his hand. "Ophelia, repeat after me—with this ring, I do thee wed."

"With this ring," Ophelia smiled as she said it. "I do thee wed."

"Bailiff, the papers." The man stepped towards the couple holding out a marriage certificate for them to sign as well as a pen. Alex signed the paper first with extremely shaky handwriting and then handed it to his bride. Ophelia took a deep breath and closed her eyes, signing the paper and handing it back to the Bailiff, who then delivered it to the judge.

The judge reviewed the paper, and gave the couple one last lingering stare. Whether it was because he was the Alex De Large or if she was the daughter of the Bill Sybalt, it was a mystery. The judge finally signed the papers and handed back to the bailiff to be filed.

"I here by approve this marriage and with the power invested in me, pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

Alex leaned down to peck Ophelia on the lips—much more gentle and quick then his usual kiss but Ophelia chopped it up the serious aura.

The judge stood and offered the couple a small smile. "Congratulations, you are now Mr. and Mrs. Alexander De Large."

"Thank you." Ophelia said quietly with a bow, Alex smirked and nodded his thanks as well.

"I hope you know what you're doing, yes." Deltoid stated before turning to leave. Ophelia watched him leave, annoyed but not all surprised at how hesitant he was.

"Yes." Ophelia repeated, making Alex chuckle. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

()

The flowers soaked in the vase on the dresser as Ophelia brushed out her hair. Alex would be coming in from his office soon, no doubt eager to return to his now wife.

Ophelia stopped when she felt the baby move in her stomach. She smirked as she set the brush down on the dresser. "It's way past your bed time, child…. Clara perhaps? Or maybe A.J…Helene?" She tried a few different names, not sure which one really fit the child she couldn't see.

"How about Montserrat? It would be cute, but…a mouthful for you and everyone else. Not anymore than Giovanni, I suppose." Ophelia sighed, as she gently patted the stomach. "We'll have to see what exactly you are first."

"Certainly hope it's human." Alex joked as he leaned against the doorway. Ophelia jumped, before looking to Alex, who was laughing. "Frightened you, love?"

"Just didn't hear you." She said. Once the surprise was gone, she walked over to her husband, wrapping her arms around him. She planted a kiss on his cheek, and another on his jaw, then several more down his neck. Alex groaned, feeling the sexual tension rising within him. Figures on his wedding night, he wouldn't be able to lay a hand on her.

"Oppie-feelie-ah…Ye might be pushing your Uncle Alex."

"Good," She said in a hard, low voice. One that made him dizzy with lust. "I want you, Alex."

He pushed his nails into her nightgown, almost afraid to hope. For the first time in awhile, he was losing himself to red. "Are you sure?"

With desperate need she wrapped one leg around him, he picked up the other so he could carry her. "Please Alex…"

Then just like that, his resistance broke. He carried her to the bed and as carefully as he could, made love to her for the first time in months. It was emotionally draining but not explosive in itself, yet the passion and love was enough to leave them both satisfied with the end result.

Ophelia was relieved to find that being with Alex didn't draw any memories of the rape. And Alex had kept control of himself enough to make sure she didn't endure anything more. They were both relieved, happy, and very much in love by the time it ended.

Their marriage was now official in every way possible.


	15. Home

Scratched Record-

Disclaimer- I do not own the storybook or movie, A Clockwork Orange or its characters. I also don't owe the play Hamlet, or it's characters and quotes.

Plot Summary- Alex fancies a girl who works at the record shop he goes to. However, the girl well pretty and music literate, is too pure and trusting. Will Alex take advantage of the young lady? Or will she be an exception to everything he has always stood for?

Chapter 15: Home

The streets were cold, as it grew closer to the holidays. Alex didn't like waiting for people—he especially didn't like waiting for his real estate agent. A ditzy, egotistical woman by the name of Tam Edwin. He was busy working on his novel when she called, gloating about the 'perfect' house she had found—he hadn't imagined it'd take anyone three months to find any sort of place but then again he wasn't a real estate agent.

When she pulled up in her new car (one of those newer models people couldn't stop raving about) she stepped out wearing some sort of female fashion. It appeared to be white-hooped dress with white stilettos and matching coat and jacket, but Alex found it too bright to look at. It made him feel sick to think that he ever thought white was cool—particularly now that it was making a comeback. "Alex, Alex darling! Have I found you the perfect house!" She said in a faked accent; no doubt to impress her other clients. It must have worked for her to keep going with it. "Out in the country, nice and close to the city, plenty of rooms as requested, it's a dream come true!"

"Right then, lets have a viddy at it." Alex grumbled, coming away from the wall. "I've been out in the freeze so long my yarbles have lost their senses."

Tam tried to hide her disgust; Alex took the silent victory in stride. There was nothing he loved more than pissing off someone he didn't like. It was really the only reason he kept her around; to take out his lingering tendencies out on her.

They bantered back and forth on the way there, banter meaning she'd vent about another costumer or something meaningless and Alex would say something brash to put an end to it. He took care not to answer too many questions about his child (remembering how annoyed he was when Pete talked so much of his baby). Ophelia was now about five months along and excited about Christmas. She was even working on music again (although she seemed lost without her guitar). She was inspired after finally playing the lullaby for Georgina and George, who loved it so much she tried to learn from Ophelia how to play it.

When they arrived at the house, Alex felt an air of familiarity. He brushed that thought away when he saw the house. He couldn't say he disagreed with Tam; it did seem like the ideal house.

It was two stories; a fine brown wood made it look old and rustic. There was a stone path leading up to the steps with a fence around it. He followed Tam inside the house- the inside was even more beautiful. The stretching hardwood floors and new windows. The studio lights reflecting against the floors. He saw the uncomfortable chair in the corner, and thought it to be a good place for his piano. When Tam took him upstairs, he saw a beautiful room with huge double windows and immediately called it his office. There was an even bigger room, which he mentally fit the bedroom in.

Last but not least, there was a wonderful room fit with two gothic looking windows and a generously sized closet. His mind saw this as the baby's room, completely with a crib, soft toys, and perhaps some place for a stereo so he could play the child some Beethoven.

"Horrorshow of a find." Alex at last whispered, not realizing it was the nicest thing he had said to his real estate agent. "How much?"

Tam smugly smirk. "You happen to be in luck; see, the former owner was one of those radicals; always against the government or what not, the neighbor is as well I believe. They were tried and convicted of some sort of crime and now it belongs to the government. It's already considerably reduced in price and since you work for the government, you may be able to get more off."

By god, it was the smartest thing this woman had ever said to him. He almost felt guilty for being such a bastard to her all this time. "Good then; draw up the paper work and yours truly will sign it. My beloved zheena will fancy it here quite well!"

Both Alex and Tam seemed relieve that their time together was almost over. She drove Alex home shortly after that, promising to bring by the paperwork as soon as possible. Alex would have a talk with the MOI tomorrow to see if he could get a reduced price on the house—the less money he spent on the house, the more he'd have for the other things they needed.

()

"Alex, what do you think of Alexander Frederic? Then we could just call him by his middle name…assuming it's a boy." Ophelia asked when Alex returned home later that night. Taking the months she spent at home to learn how to cook, she had a warm meal set out which he ate; relieved to find it no longer tasted burnt or unsatisfying. Alex grimaced at the name, making her frown. "Okay, what don't you like about it?"

"Frederic is not a name I fancy." Alex said simply with an apologetic shrug. Ophelia accepted his apology with an eased look. "Nor do I…wish to give our possible son my name."

Ophelia's fork hit hard against the plate. She looked at him, shocked and confused. "Why not?"

Alex pondered the question. "Because… giving him my name indicates somewhat that I want him to be like me—and I haven't been a model son."

"Alex, you've done…" She didn't bother finishing the sentence. Knowing his past, she couldn't exactly disagree. "You were the way you were because all boys were at that age… the name doesn't…"

Alex dropped his silverware and backed his chair out. He stood, leaning his hands on the table. Ophelia was taken back by his actions. Alex spoke in a low voice. "I swear it here, Oppie-feelie-ah, I will not allow any son of mine to do the things I've done, do you pony that? Not as long as I live! I will snuff it before you are to handle any…any oozhassny bratchny!"

"Alright!" She finally snapped back. Alex came out of his spell of anger and rubbed a hand over his face. Ophelia shook her head and returned to his meal. "I don't see you making any suggestions for names."

He bit his lip and sat back down. "Appypolly loggy, darling…" Ophelia sighed but smiled gently. Apology accepted.

"You know… I just realized, you said name instead of eemya." Alex was barely fazed by the discovery. "If your not careful, you might start speaking like Pete."

They both chuckled, even if there was some truth behind it. Ophelia was beginning to wonder if marriage and soon to be fatherhood was taking it's toll on the former gang member.

After a few quiet moments, Ophelia took both their plates and walked over to the sink. Alex, against his usual decisions, decided to get up and help her. "I found us a house today…When do you want to move in?"

"What?" Ophelia turned towards him suddenly, making sure he was speaking the truth. He said it so indifferently, she was almost afraid she heard incorrectly. "You found a house?"

He nodded, and a smile broke across his face. Ophelia squealed and jumped into Alex's arms. He embraced her, holding her pregnant but small body against his.

Ophelia gasped when the baby started kicking, she pulled away. "I think the baby's happy too." Alex looked down between them and laughed. Ophelia grabbed his hand and brought it down to where the baby was kicking. The smile on his face impossibly grew.

He recalled the names he liked so much and made a contribution to the name list. "What do you think of Clara Jostelyn for a devotchka after the composer and that veck's tape you gave me that nochy ye met me."

"Joss Hyfreed? I can't believe you remember." Ophelia whispered against his chest as he rocked her close. "I love it—it's perfect."

"Indeed." Alex said with a laugh.

()

Christmas approached. Instead of their apartment being decorated and decked, boxes were packed. Alex hadn't gotten much of a deal from MOI, but he got enough of a deal that he was beginning to look for cars for them to drive to the city with and having the house done up for security. As soon as those two things were accomplished, they could move in.

On Christmas morning, he woke up to the sound of whispering in his ear. "Alex, wake up. We have to open presents before we have brunch with your parents."

The excited voice slowly drew him from his sleep, Ophelia had one arm wrapped around him but somehow felt over him. He groaned and rolled towards her. "Why the bloody hell did we agree to that?"

"Oh don't be like that! You know you're mother wants to throw me a baby shower." Ophelia got on to her knees and grabbed Alex's tired hand. "Come on!"

His unusually energetic wife perplexed him. He managed to mosey himself out of bed and followed Ophelia out to the living room. He stopped in his tracks; immediately understanding why she was so excited.

In the middle of the room was a tank set up on a wooden holder. Inside the tank, laid a coiled ball python. Alex's wide eyes took the sight in and he did in fact, start to feel like a kid at Christmas time. "Your mother told me you use to have one—took it quite hard when he died too. I personally prefer—furrier animals, but I've never had a pet before."

Alex slipped his hand away and walked up to the tank, taking a closer look at his new snake. Ophelia, a bit nervous he didn't like the gift, continued on. "I had Pete come over to set it up as a surprised—he kept over there as well. Said baby George found the snake quite appealing to watch so—if you don't like him, maybe they would…"

"It's perhaps the most sammy gift I've ever received…. Thank you." He said, reaching his hand in to touch the snake. The snake bumped his head against his hand, getting a better feel for his new master. "I think I'll call him Dugan—doesn't feel quite right to call him Basil."

"Sounds great." Ophelia fired back, very relieved that Alex thought so highly of her gift. Alex then stood up straight and walked out of the room; he returned with a wrapped gift that looked too much like a guitar to be anything else. Ophelia was already pressing her hands together in glee.

Alex smiled, and extended it towards her. "Bet ye will be surprised." He joked. Ophelia took the gift and ripped the wrapping away, revealing a black leather case. She kneeled down to open it and her jaw dropped when she did. The guitar was beautiful and shiny as if new but judging by the style and appearance, was in fact a classic guitar. She could have screamed when she saw the brand name Les Paul on it.

"Alex! I can't...I…" She jumped up and hugged him. Alex held her close and kissed her cheek.

"I miss hearing you warble old six strings…I want to slooshy it once more." Blushing at his request, she picked up the guitar and sat down to tune it. Once she was done, she started to play it. Making beautiful music once more. It felt at once like she was complete. Alex for the first time in a long time saw complete and pure bliss on his wife's face. Even Dugan appeared happy in his new home among his new family.

Alex had always spent previous Christmas ruining lives and holidays of other people. During the day his parents would bug him to spend time with them, but he always preferred creating havoc and celebrating like hellions. Yet, he didn't miss the days singing bad carols with his droogs or picking on the homeless who really have no place else to go.

He was glad to be spending it with a wife he loved, a family he was building, and feeling joy they together had created.


	16. Welcome to the Neighborhood

Scratched Record-

Disclaimer- I do not own the storybook or movie, A Clockwork Orange or its characters. I also don't owe the play Hamlet, or it's characters and quotes.

Plot Summary- Alex fancies a girl who works at the record shop he goes to. However, the girl well pretty and music literate, is too pure and trusting. Will Alex take advantage of the young lady? Or will she be an exception to everything he has always stood for?

Chapter 16: Welcome to the Neighborhood

Ophelia was nearing 7 1/2 months in her pregnancy when they finally moved into their apartment. Alex's book was currently in production as the MOI had found it most satisfying and seemed relatively excited about it when he told Alex it'd be published.

The house was now filled with their belongings and decorations. Alex, who had mostly kept his more provocative decorations at his parent's house, had questioned bringing them there while Ophelia almost insisted upon it. "You know how I feel about the idea of sheltering our children. In this day and age, the only real way to keep them pure is to introduce the idea to them, anyway."

So, selective parts of the house were decorated with the art he had enjoyed so much. Dugan was kept in a bigger cage; almost expanding one wall, near the piano Alex enjoyed playing on so much. The room he had envisioned as a nursery was now filled with the thoughtful gifts so many of Alex's relatives brought to the baby shower Mrs. De Large had thrown. This included a beautiful crib, many wonderful and bright toys, and all sorts of various items that made raising a baby so much easier.

However, Alex himself had bought a record player and placed it in the room, already selecting records to play for their child. Sometimes he and Ophelia would sit in the room and lean against the crib, listening to the records and talking amongst themselves.

"Do you think we'll make good parents?" Ophelia asked, a hand resting on her very pregnant belly. Her other hand was playing with Alex's hair, which was slowly growing back the length he had a few years before meeting Ophelia.

Alex moved his hand up and down her lap and smirked. "Can not say, Oppie-feelie-ah. Wasn't so long ago that I couldn't viddy a child of my own. I know you to be a em-like character."

"You can be father-like too believe it or not." Ophelia said, playfully tugging his hair. Alex laughed and jerked away from her grasp. "It's true; you're so protective and intelligent… You'll make a very good father."

Alex would like to believe so but wasn't so sure. After all, he had made enough mistakes and done enough bad things in his life where he wasn't sure it would be just of him to keep a child in line, or if he was in fact, sworn to do so. Would he be gentle and kind to his son or daughter? Or would he be tough on the little De Large, expecting more from it than his own parents did of him? It was difficult to say what kind of a father he would be until he became one.

The doorbell rang. With a sigh, Ophelia moved her hand to his lap to help herself up. Alex assisted her, both of them walking downstairs to the front door. Looking through the peephole, Ophelia asked. "Who is it?"

A tall man with muscles and glasses smiled back. "Next door…well, field over neighbor, coming to welcome you. Would you mind letting me in? Fraid it gets rather dangerous even out here."

Ophelia, unsurely, looked back to Alex. Alex reached over to grab his cane and nodded for her to let the stranger in. Ophelia pressed in the code and unlocked the doors before opening it wide to the tall man. He smiled graciously as he stepped in. "Appreciate it. It's nice to meet you neighbors. Mr. Stone is what I go by." He enthusiastically held out his hand. Both Ophelia and Alex stared at it, each feeling a different sense of familiarity. As if they had both briefly met Mr. Stone before.

Nonetheless, Ophelia took his hand and smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stone…I'm Ophelia De Large, and this is my husband, Alex."

Mr. Stone faced Alex and offered his hand. Alex reluctantly shook it. Trying to understand why his mind sounded off every time he looked this man in the face. "Married eh? How long now? A year?"

"Few months actually." Alex corrected. "About five or so, right dear?"

"Sounds about right." Alex motioned for Ophelia to come stand closer to him. She did so in a heartbeat, not liking the way her mind couldn't process anything but where she had seen this man before. "Tell me, Mr. Stone, how long have you lived here?"

"Oh short time, live here with my old dad just down the street. Needs a lot of care and what not." He then nodded down to Ophelia's stomach, startling the young couple. "So when is the babe due?"

"A little more than a month." Ophelia answered, wrapping her arm around Alex. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, Mr. Stone but… We've had a very long day and we're both very tired. Would you terribly mind if we got together another day perhaps?"

"Oh, not at all. I imagine you would be tired. Well, if there be anything you need, let me know and again, welcome." Alex was the one who showed this Mr. Stone out, making sure all the doors were locked once he was gone.

"Strange veck... Yet, his face was in my every messel. Like I've met him sometime before."

"You might have, he seems familiar to me too." Ophelia said, wrapping her arms around upper body. "It doesn't strike me as a good relation either."

Alex could only hope that it was simply someone they had briefly and not some sort of enemy. "Come now; let's sleep on this and perhaps messel more of it in the morning."

()

"Married? Even knowing what that boy is she married him!" F. Alexander screamed, his heart drawing nearer and neared to a heart attack every minute. Julian adjusted his glasses, allowing himself to take the heat of his master's anger. "And now she's bringing another hellion into this god forsaken earth?"

F. Alexander, when he discovered that the people who had moved into his dearly and falsely imprisoned friends house was in fact, the very couple he had tried to destroy. His anger had only increased when hearing from Julian (who went over under the disguise of a neighbor living with his elderly father) that not only had Ophelia gotten over her incident and married Alex, she was now also pregnant with his child.

"Sir, if I may…" Julian wasn't sure how he could say this to a man who has suffered like his friend did. But he felt, after seeing the young couple and seeing the pain in F. Alexander's eyes, that it needed to be said. "You've gotten your revenge—you hired those boys to do to her what he did to your wife so long ago. Isn't it best just to accept things for what it is?"

"No!" F. Alexander banged the handles of his wheelchair in anger. "My wife was raped and murder by that monster! We are far from equal!"

Julian watched the look—the maddening look that hadn't left his features since the day Alex De Large entered back into his life—turned dark and even more insane. "My dear wife died—no dignity, no pity, not even a child to ease the pain of losing her. We will not be even until Mr. De Large feels the same…"

"Only then will he truly ever be rehabilitated."

()

"How long will you be gone for?" Ophelia asked as Alex slipped his jacket on. They were having a meeting on how to best introduce Alex as a novelist considering his criminal history. While the MOI had his doubts, most of the people believed Alex's experiences with social anarchy and imprisonment would only help his image as a social commentator. That being said, it meant leaving his wife home alone for a few hours.

"Not long; few hours tops. Would you fancy it if Pete came to keep ye company while your Uncle Alex is away?"

Ophelia shook her head. "It's alright, I should manage fine for a few hours. It'll give me some time to work on my music."

"I'll set up the security measures. Don't let any veck in, even if he states it's an emergency. It's usually just a ploy." He warned. Ophelia nodded, straightening Alex's coat for him before kissing his cheek. "Ye know the number if ye sense something off."

"Good luck…"

Alex smiled and stroked her cheek before walking out the door, setting the coded number before walking to his new car—the last thing he had promised to take care of before the baby arrived. It was a great relief to know he wouldn't have to worry about anything being out of place. His son or daughter would come into this world safe and wanting for nothing.

They would be ready for the baby.

()

Ophelia heard heavy knocks at the door. She set the guitar down and nervously walked to the door. Keeping her free eye on the phone in case the police or Alex needed to be contacted. "Who is it?"

"Mrs. De Large? It's Mr. Stone!" Ophelia looked through the peephole and saw that it was in fact, her new neighbor. Looking frightened and frazzled. "Please! I need your help. My father, he's been hurt and I'm not sure what to do!"

"Couldn't you call the hospital?" Ophelia asked; not sure if she should help or not. Alex had warned her against strangers but technically, the man wasn't a stranger. He was the familiar looking neighbor with his elderly father.

"He refuses to go! Says he'd rather die…Please, Ophelia, I swear I'll walk you back after we're done, I need your help."

Ophelia thought of it a moment longer, before he desire to help took over. She opened the door and Mr. Stone leaned in the doorway grabbing her hand. "Hurry! We haven't much time!"

She followed Mr. Stone to the house across the field, trying to keep up with him despite her heavily pregnant body. She couldn't help but notice the sign that said 'Home' on it leading to the unkempt yet beautiful house.

Mr. Stone opened the door, allowing Ophelia to go in first. She caught her own reflection in the hallway of mirrors, watching as she meekly walked down the halls to where the faint sounds of groaning could be heard. "Hello? Sir? Are you alright?"

The groan was louder and Ophelia quickly followed it until she saw the main living room. A place filled with uncomfortable furniture and tall bookshelves, and what appeared to be a desk on the higher floor. A man in a wheelchair was grasping his head, shielding his face from her view.

Mr. Stone came up behind, but didn't move any closer to his supposed ailing father. Ophelia carefully climbed up the stairs and kneeled down before the man; blonde locks gently caressing his shoulder. Her hand lay on his back. "What's the matter?"

The man slowly raised his head, and Ophelia gasped, pulling away from him as quickly as possible. F. Alexander smiled; sickly enjoying the look of pain on her face. 

Ophelia struggled with her emotions. She turned back to Mr. Stone, finally realizing where she had seen him before. Where she had seen both them.

It was the man in the wheelchair and the attendant that had allowed her to be raped. She was now beginning to realize it was more than a coincidence they had brought her here—and it meant that they had left her that day for reasons beyond fear.

Then a sudden pain struck her abdomen. She doubled over with a cry as back further away from them. Julian, finally free of the neighborly guise of Mr. Stone, ran to her quickly, helping her down to the floor.

"Oh god, please! It's…It's the baby." She barely managed to say in a pain strained whisper. Her nails were digging into his skin. F. Alexander backed out and towards Ophelia and Julian.

"Sir, perhaps we should…"

F. Alexander held his hand up to stop him. He wouldn't hear of it—Julian, saw the hard look in his eye and feared for the girl and her child. This was getting wildly out of hand.

And he didn't know how to stop it.

()

Rain started pouring on Alex's home. At first, he thought of it as nothing but terrible luck, he later discovered it was an omen for what was about to happen.

Nothing matched the horror he felt walking through the clearly unlocked door and seeing his house—not a thing moved or broken. Ophelia's guitar lay on the couch but was missing its owner.

His wife was gone and nowhere in sight.

Alex ran back out into the pouring rain, trying to find any trace of where she might of went. Did she wander out and get lost? Did something happen to her? Did someone force her out? Or did she go with someone willingly?

His questions were answered with a sign out in the distance. A four-letter word that he would never forget a long with the mixed feelings that sign brought at one time. Right now, all he could feel was dread. How could he have not noticed the danger looking him right in the face? How could he have been so oblivious to the sins of his past?

The sign that read Home was off in the distance. And that word like a code unlocked a world of realization.

_"I viddied more from you Len…No, you're not so gloopy as to challenge me are ye?"_

"_Some veck encouraged ye to vred her. Made you confident enough to so…"_

He hadn't realized, in his fit of rage, how right he was until now.

An old score needed to be settled; and Alex could only hope it wouldn't cost him his wife and child.


	17. Conditioning

Scratched Record-

Disclaimer- I do not own the storybook or movie, A Clockwork Orange or its characters. I also don't owe the play Hamlet, or it's characters and quotes.

Plot Summary- Alex fancies a girl who works at the record shop he goes to. However, the girl well pretty and music literate, is too pure and trusting. Will Alex take advantage of the young lady? Or will she be an exception to everything he has always stood for?

Chapter 17: Conditioning

Her screams were heard beyond the door. Alex brought down his knife and cut apart the lock so he could pry it open. After he sheathed his knife, he walked through the door. He was amazed to find how easily his brain remembered the house despite only being in it twice. His mind remembered the bookshelves and books he had destroyed in his little dance and song. Recalled the smells he smelled when F. Alexander and his attendant had found him shortly after his rehabilitation.

He recalled the floors on which the man laid and scream as Alex and his droogs forced the old in-out, in-out on his wife. An act he very rarely regretted but now would have taken back if he had known it would back fire in this way.

"Ah, Alex, long time no see, eh?" F. Alexander greeted him like an old friend, yelling it over Ophelia's screams. The young girl was lying on the floor, both hands on her stomach as she sweated and panted. The attendant, Julian, was sweeping the hair away from her face. "Hear your going to be a father; looks like it might be tonight. My congratulations!"

Alex clutched his cane, keeping his eyes on Ophelia. "You're a fucking oozhassny bratchnny! Bringing her into this! I'm the veck ye want, take me!"

"Oh, like how you and your thugs spared my wife?" F. Alexander shouted. Julian watched the scene, while trying to sooth the screaming girl on the floor.

"Sir, please…Do you really intend on hurting this poor girl and a baby?"

The insane glower the man bared was enough to make even Alex sick. "No, Mr. De Large simply has to choose whose life is more important. His or hers."

"What…" Ophelia muttered quietly trying to raise herself on her hands. "You…You can't…"

"Well, Alex?" Mr. F. Alexander proclaimed loudly. "All you have to do is agree to try and end your life once more, only this time, die like you should have, and I'll have Mr. Julian take your dear little Ophelia to the hospital. Or you can watch as the woman you love and your little brat perish!"

Ophelia's cry broke the conversation once more. "Why are you doing this?"

A sickness and pain, far greater than anything he had ever felt while being condition, infected him. Alex groaned his madness and tried to sooth her. "It's my fault, Oppie-feelie-ah… I'm… I'm truly sorry."

"Tell her why!" F. Alexander yelled. Ophelia's eyes caught Alex's for a moment. So much pain and confusion. He wouldn't let it end unless Alex confessed. So he did.

"His wife…I…I'm the one who ended her life. Not directly, I… I was just…Me my droogs—George, Dim, even Pete…We broke into here and all of us in-out, in-out with her." Despite dropping his accent to face the events, he couldn't bare to use any other word. "She died later on because of our doing…or so he said… I'm sorry Ophelia, I never wanted this to happen to you."

His confession was only met with a few heavy sobs and more agonizing screams. Time was running out. Alex made his choice. "Get her to hospital for god sakes! I'll lay down my body if it means saving her!"

"No! Alex, no!" Ophelia screeched. Once Mr. F. Alexander gave a nod, Julian picked Ophelia up and carried her, offering a look of pity to Alex. Alex watched her being carried away; trying not to think of it as the last time he would see her. He gave her a small smile to reassure her.

"It's alright, Oppie-feelie-ah…You'll be fine…"

They were gone soon; leaving only Alex and F. Alexander. Alex walked forward, preparing himself to unsheathe his cane when the elder Alexander pulled out his gun. "You're fine just where you are…"

Alex sighed; defeated, completely and utterly defeated. He could either end it by his own hand or F. Alexander would end it himself. The outcome would be the same. He'd never see Ophelia again, or watch his own son or daughter grow up. If they made it into this world, they would only know that their father died—a perhaps justified death for the things he had done in his past.

He wouldn't give him the satisfaction of pulling the trigger himself. Alex unsheathed the knife, raising it up to his chest. His glare digging deep into F. Alexander's soul as he smirk.

"See ye in hell."

"Looking forward to it." Alex dug the knife, the pressure just started to build against his chest. He was about to close his eyes and plunge it when a shot rang out.

Alex dropped the cane, half-expecting to find a bullet in chest. He was unmarked. He was alive.

Which was more than what could be said Mr. F Alexander; at least that's what Alex thought. He was hunched over in his chair, blood seeping from his chest. The old man's body was loose and limp, his face freed to be wrinkled and not tense for perhaps the first time in a long time. Amazingly, he look much older relaxed then he did in his miserable, revenge filled life.

Julian dropped the gun from his hands and sighed. Tried to remind himself that the man in the chair was not as he was when they met. It was true, he was grieving, but he was so merciful and kind when Julian had been hired. A respectable man in every way and form. A true friend and mentor.

But what was left of his humanity faded when Alex came back in his life not so long ago. Then his life of justice and good nature gave in to his inner hatred and desire to avenge his wife until all that was a left was a man no more ruthless than the scoundrel who had made him so.

The man he had met had become this out of agony. And his willingness to hurt Ophelia and her child simply to get to Alex proved that he would never snap out of it. So Julian comforted himself by calling it a mercy killing. He had to die with whatever dignity he had left.

He looked straight at Alex. "She's in the car—go, now."

Alex didn't thank or criticize the man who had saved his life. He turned and ran out of the house, swearing it'd be the last time he'd enter it ever again. Alex went out to the car and drove his wife, who had passed out from the pain, to the hospital.

Julian meanwhile crossed the floor and reached down to grab the cane-knife. He could practically feel the evil it carried. It was like he knew it was here the night Alex and his gang tore this home apart and raped Mrs. Alexander. He clutched it and shed a tear.

While the evil had already left its mark; he would see to it that it was destroyed.

()

It all happened so fast once they reached the hospital. The Dr. Richards slung words at Alex; all too quickly for him to handle. The phrases he managed to pick-up were along the lines of 'Baby's in distress' 'C-section's necessary' and 'could lose them both'. He knew enough to sign any thing they threw at him.

It turned out F. Alexander was right—the baby would be born tonight.

"Alex?" Ophelia was tired and worn down, but thankfully no longer in pain. Alex had been permitted to be in the delivery room as the doctor performed the C-section. He gently grasped her hand. "How…How are you here?"

"Plenty of time for it later, darling." His other hand caressing her face.

She closed her eyes and brought her face against his hand. "Whatever it was…thank bog for it…"

"We're starting." Dr. Richards said as she started the surgery. Alex had never before participated in this role; the one regarding life. All he had ever done was destroy. Even in his new life, he had come dangerously close to obliterating Ophelia and all the good she had brought. Even when good, he was somehow evil.

But for when he heard the cries: the sounds of his child crying out. It was as if all the darkness was at last scared away by the purity. For the first time in months, Ophelia shed tears not because she was being hurt—but because she was happy. And the knowledge of knowing he had brought a new, meaningful life into this world—it made the normally unsentimental young man cry too.

So the entire family was crying, mother, father and …"It's a boy!" Son.

"A boy?" Ophelia weakly repeated. Alex laughed and kissed her gently on the lips.

"Yes, zheena… A malenky malchick of our own." Alex watched as they cleaned his son off. The baby was small—smaller than he expected though he assumed it was partly because he was premature. His skin was a red, his eyes closed. These traits all temporary but frustrated Alex, who had wanted to know if his child would be pale like his parents or whose eyes he would have. The hair, what little there was of it, was wheat blonde.

Alex frowned when they took him out of the room. "Where are they going? I…I didn't get to see him…Is something wrong?" She panicked.

"We need to close you up, Ophelia." Dr. Richards explained. "And your baby is very premature, we need to make sure he's okay."

"But…But…" Ophelia's tears turned frantic, Alex brushed them all away.

"Don't be razdrez, Oppie-feelie-ah. We'll viddy him soon enough. It'll be a wonderful moment, it will be darling." Alex said willing her calm. She started to relax a bit, stroking Alex's hand.

"What does he look like? I know you saw him."

"Why, he's entirely zammechat! So very, very horrorshow it brings me much radosty to call him my own. Blonde locks of luscious glory, like ye and I." Alex still saw the desire and agony of their new son being so far away. "And what eemya shall we bestow him? We only messeled one for a devotchka."

Ophelia bit her lip. "Honestly? When I thought you were…When I thought he'd kill you…I was going to name him after you. Even knowing how you felt about it…It wasn't to insult you, it was…"

"I know." Alex said. He knew the amount of grief that would have befallen her if he had died. He thought it enough that it would have been appropriate to break his rule.

"I…I really like the name Johan. And it would go with your middle name, John. Johan Malcolm De Large."

"Johan it is." Alex agreed, liking the way the name sounded. It sounded old fashioned and sophisticated. Like the name of a composer; which made sense since he was named after one.

Dr. Richards finished sewing up Ophelia and allowed her to be moved to a hospital room. About an hour later, Dr. Richards returned to the room pushing a bassinet with their bundled son inside.

"Would have liked him a little farther along, but he doesn't seem to have any problems or issues. Perfectly healthy baby boy. You both are very, very fortunate." The doctor, who had even brought up the suggestion of terminating the pregnancy, brought Johan closer and lifted him from the bassinet. The baby boy was wrapped in traditional blue. The fabric of the blanket brushed against Alex's skin as he took his son.

Johan was quiet now, breath easy and sound. Alex brushed his hand through his son's locks and found that being father was nothing like he expected. It was far more awesome than he could have ever imagined.

There was an instant bond between the two. Alex had almost died for this being and now he realized why. He wondered if his own father had felt this way when he was born. Or if his mother had the adoring look in her eyes when her eyes fell upon him. Alex lowered Johan into Ophelia's arms and helped her hold him. Whatever turmoil had occurred earlier—they were both at peace now.

They were at least until Johan was sleeping in his bassinet. Ophelia was a bit more aware as Alex prepared them both to sleep. "That man…you…you caused his wife to die?"

Alex tensed when he heard it; half hoping she wouldn't remember through all her pain. It wasn't like Ophelia was oblivious to his past. She had accepted him as the man he was now. Yet, after her own dark experiences, he had to wonder if she'd be as accepting. Nonetheless, he responded. "Indeed I did."

"Alex…the man I said allowed it all to happen…It was him and that Julian. I thought he was a scared citizen—they're all conditioned to ignore the suffering of others at the risk of having it inflicted upon them... But he hired them, didn't he?"

"Indeed." Alex repeated. Ophelia brushed a hand through her hair; her hand wrapping itself in her long blonde locks.

"Johan and I could have died tonight. The woman you victimized did…That man was insane and he wanted to kill you! How did you escape him?"

"That Julian…turned on his master it would seem." Alex explained in a low voice. Ophelia gave him a confused look, forcing him to elaborate. "Shot him dead—put him down like a mad dog."

Ophelia gasped and brought her hands down to her lap. Alex knew she felt guilty about her part in this. His sweet Ophelia always felt guilty for things that weren't her fault. Alex sat on the bed and placed a hand on his son's bassinet. "I did that man a great wrong long ago, he and his wife. I won't blame society or blame anyone else but myself for that. But any decent man would have come after his attacker—not his pregnant wife and her unborn child."

"I love you and that boy more than anything and I can admit that I deserve none of it." He continued as he gently pushed the bassinet back and forth. "But that man deserved what he got the minute he hired Len, Bully, and Rick to hurt you…even more so when he would have let you and our baby die… and maybe I deserve no better, but…"

"I've never been a judge and jury Alex…" Ophelia cut in, her tone even and simple. "All I know is one night a boy I'd see in the record shop everyday came to my rescue once and hasn't stopped since. No matter how dark or evil your presence is, all I can see is the good in you and I can't help but charmed by it."

"I need you, Alex, and our son needs you, and that is what we all deserve."

Ophelia moved to the side and motioned for Alex to come join her. He slowly did, moving up on the bed until they were laying side by side, holding each other close and watching as Johan slept, not a care in the world.

And simple as that, each of the De Large's felt completely at peace.


	18. The End

Scratched Record-

Disclaimer- I do not own the storybook or movie, A Clockwork Orange or its characters. I also don't owe the play Hamlet, or it's characters and quotes.

Plot Summary- Alex fancies a girl who works at the record shop he goes to. However, the girl well pretty and music literate, is too pure and trusting. Will Alex take advantage of the young lady? Or will she be an exception to everything he has always stood for?

Chapter 18: The End

She hadn't noticed the way he was looking at her. She being his wife of 9 years this very night. Nearly a decade Alex hadn't grown tired of his malenky little devotchka yet—if anything, age had made her more and more beautiful to him and it was impossible to believe he had ever found her pale or unappealing. Ophelia's long blonde locks dropped into the dishwater as she finished cleaning up after dinner.

"Dad, how was that one?" Johan asked. The eight-year-old dark blonde boy with his mother's green eyes, had proven himself quite skilled at piano and only improved under Alex's guidance. Ophelia put the final dish in the drying rack and looked just in time to see Alex look back to their son.

"Very good son, very good indeed." He said—she couldn't remember when Alex exactly had lost the final traces of his accent; it was sometime after the birth of the beautiful little blonde girl sitting at the table—their five year old daughter Clara Jostelyn De Large. At the moment, she was calmly drawing but Clara was prone to sudden tantrums and attacks—things that Johan never even considered at her age. Alex, who had worried that son may provide grief to their family, now wondered if his beloved, spoiled daughter would become a problem.

"The women I came across...victimized… they always came across as so pure and innocent. I thought good came naturally to them; I never once considered that the darkness I carried for so long could be inflicted upon my darling princess." And he did in fact, worship and spoil the girl more than he did Johan. Perhaps to make up for the way he had treated females for so long.

Alex had proven himself to be an attentive and protective father, and having the time to do so now that his career as author had taken off. Alex's book about the young and society had been an instant hit and he was asked to write many more and was eventually convinced to go to college. He now had a bachelor's degree in sociology, with a minor in music and was currently working towards his bachelors in music as well.

Ophelia, as far as her music career was concerned, was doing well. When Johan was young, she would work during the mornings on her music while attending to her son, and sometimes in the afternoon, take him to play with George or visit Alex's parents, who adored their grandson more than anything. During these nights, (sometimes with Alex, sometimes not) she would take Johan to the jazz bar the couple use to go to. The young child seemed to love the music even as a baby and it gave Ophelia time to work on her music some more. These trips continued until Clara was born and Ophelia started getting offers from record companies to buy her music for other artists to use. Now many of her songs were becoming popular hits.

Life seemed almost perfect, Ophelia thought as she watched Alex tutor Johan in his piano playing. Out of the corner of her eye she could feel Clara's cold glare out to the living room. The children were so jealous of one another; Johan that Clara was handed everything by Alex, and Clara that he expected more out of Johan and spent more time with him. There was also always the fear that they would get lost in the world that had been so cruel to her. These feelings had also started a few fights between Alex and Ophelia. Such as Alex's preference that the children be homeschooled while Ophelia insisted they go to a public school.

As worried as she was that her son and daughter would be dragged into a bad crowd; she didn't want her children sheltered either. She could only hope there'd be a middle ground; pray that there was one.

Ophelia walked over and tapped Clara's shoulder. "Come on now; time for bed."

"But Johan doesn't have to...!"

"Yes he will. Go upstairs and wait for your _father _and I to tuck you in." Ophelia said quickly so to avoid a tantrum. She put emphasis on the world father because Clara was less likely to challenge Alex than she was Ophelia. Clara may have been able to manipulate her father (smart enough to use it to her advantage too) but she was also smart enough to know that Alex was not a man to mess with.

Clara gathered her things and ran off; the quick patter of feet made Ophelia sigh. She then walked, her eyes setting on her beautiful son and wonderful husband.

Johan finished the song he played, Alex patting his back, satisfied with his son's performance. "Johan, time to get ready for bed."

Johan turned with wide eyes, just as he was to question it Alex squeezed his shoulder. "Go on then, son. Mum and I will be up soon."

The little boy, still brooding in his seat, took his piano book and quickly rushed by upstairs. Alex smiled at his wife and rose from his bench. Ophelia smiled as she welcomed him into her arms. "Thank god for you; those children would never listen to me."

"You're a gentle and beautiful mother, darling. Too much so to be a force to be reckoned with." He kissed her neck and nuzzled her chin, making her blush. After so many years, she still blushed and awed like a virgin. "Perhaps we could have some fun once the children are asleep?"

"I'd…" Ophelia couldn't finish the thought. There was loud screaming upstairs follow by a crash. With their hands entwined they rushed upstairs. The scream came from Clara's room, inside, the lamp the girl always slept with on was broken across the floor, both children staring at it wide eyed. Clara's eye began to water.

"Look at what you did now!"

"What I did? You were the one who took my book!"

"You were making fun of me!"

"Enough!" Alex said abruptly. Looking between both children. "That's enough of both of you! I want this lamp cleaned up and each of you to bed!"

"Alex, darling your voice." Ophelia broke in, nodding her head to Clara. More tears were falling from her voice as the anger and frustration gathered in their small child.

"But…he started it! He was telling me how I'll never learn piano, how you two hate me for causing fits and that's why you won't teach me!" Clara broke in suddenly. Johan couldn't even deny it; it wasn't in his nature to try and lie to his parents. Alex glared at his son.

"Are you getting cocky son? Picking on your sister when you yourself are still an amateur?" Alex showed no mercy even when the boy flinched. Alex wanted his children humbled; so they wouldn't dare step out of line.

"But dad…mom…."

Ophelia sighed; she an Alex had talked about this. It would hurt, and it'd make all of them cry, but they had to be hard. "Your father's right, Johan… It's…hypocritical."

"Now you help your sister pick up this lamp and you both go to sleep! Come along, mum…." Alex said extending his hand towards Ophelia. Both children were still angry and upset, barely able to move. However, in the silent moment, Johan whispered something off his lips.

"Bratchny…." Alex stopped, his hand still around Ophelia's, hardly believing the word he had heard.

"What did you say?" He asked in a cold voice, turning over his shoulder to face his son. Johan shook where he stood, face growing pale. He was more afraid than he ever had before. Ophelia watched the scene in fear. It wasn't what the word meant that had put Alex off; it was the word he used. "Well?"

"I…I said…"

"Just go to bed, Johan." Ophelia said, trying to prevent the danger. But it was too late; Alex stomped over to his backing son, but managed to grab his wrist. He jerked Johan forward. "Alex? Alex!"

A look overcame Alex; one she hadn't seen in years. It was the dangerous look daring the world to challenge him. A grin overcame his face as he shook his son's arm. "A word of advice boy…. Never bring that language into my house again, do you understand! Not a goddamn word such as that is to ever leave your lips! Or I swear, heaven or hell won't compare to the wrath I bring upon you…Understand boy?"

Johan couldn't move or speak. Alex held the look for a moment or so before releasing him. "Get the hell out of my sight, _now!_"

The boy didn't even pick up his book. He rushed out of the room, brushing by Ophelia. The older woman couldn't sty to watch Alex help Clara pick up her lamp, she ran from the room, bursting into tears.

It was tears over what she already knew; she couldn't protect her children from the world; and she couldn't protect them from her husbands past. Alex was such an attentive father; she could hardly believe he was the same boy she had met all those years ago. And while she worshiped him as a husband; she was afraid her son would turn out like he was as a boy.

She had seen the best and the worst of Alex; heard him warn her about himself time after time. Did it affect her feelings for him? Never. Did it make her fear that his troubles were genetic? Absolutely. She never wanted to look at her children and see the monster she could see in Alex.

Alex entered the bedroom and closed it. "Ophelia….I had to."

"He's just a boy Alex… He can't be capable of what we're afraid he is."

She felt the weight shift on the bed and after a moment, his arms were around her. He held her close as his own tears pricked at his eyes. "I…I want better for him Ophelia. If I hadn't been so jaded…if I had created instead of destroyed…"

Ophelia sighed; knowing it rare for him to get so emotional. She leaned her head on his arm, making a great understanding. "It is what it is, Alex… We can do what we can and just hope for the best."

Alex planted a kiss on her cheek. The woman who had given him all of this. Who had made him realize he had wanted more not just for himself; but his children too. "I swear as long as I live, neither of those children will face what I have."

Ophelia could only hope that much was true.

Hey guys! Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews and alerts for the story! It's been a great story to write! I'm considering making a sequel but I still have to think it through. Let me know what you all think! Thanks again.


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